


No Wolves Allowed

by Quarra, xantissa



Series: No Wolves Allowed [2]
Category: Castlevania: Lords of Shadow, Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Biting, Blink and you'll miss it Daddy Kink, Blow Jobs, Cock Warming, Dimension Travel, Dom/sub Undertones, Double Penetration, Fluff, Forced Orgasm, Geralt's POV, Hair Washing, Happy Ending, Humor, Incest, Knifeplay, Light Angst, M/M, Magic, Mild Angst, Mild CBT, Mild Cock and Ball Torture, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Porn With Plot, Possessive Behavior, Prostate Massage, Rimming, Romance, Seduction, Smut, Spit Roasting, Swordsmanship, Temperature Play, Threesome - M/M/M, You do not need to be familiar with either of these fandoms to read and understand this fic, baths, blink and you'll miss it pet play, brief mention of child experimentation, fang porn, hair porn, mild pain play, vampire porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-08-29 11:27:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 88,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16743112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quarra/pseuds/Quarra, https://archiveofourown.org/users/xantissa/pseuds/xantissa
Summary: Geralt of Rivia was a witcher, a famous monster hunter. He was trained from infancy to be the perfect fighter, and magically modified for increased physical abilities. He and his daughter, Ciri, were teleporting away from a battle, weary but pleased with their victory, when something went wrong. Ciri’s portal didn’t take them back to their home.It took them to a massive, sinister castle, far, far away from anything they’d ever seen, and filled to the brim with demonic energy. With Ciri unconscious and Geralt himself wounded, he feared the worst.But the castle’s dangerous and powerful owners were more intriguing than he expected, and far too beautiful to resist.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> From Xantissa: This can be considered to be set in the same universe as my story [The Fall](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11795028), or as a stand alone. The work in progress summary was: Dracula is very _helpful_ in this story.
> 
> From Quarra: Ok, so I've spent months calling this series Vamporno. I have no regrets. 
> 
> Also, I have written Geralt based on my personal play through of the first Witcher game, where Geralt is the biggest slut ever. I've also taken massive liberties with Ciri's personality. The setting is roughly after Lords of Shadow 2, and some nebulous time after Witcher 1, but you do not need to know any of that to read and enjoy. We fill you in as we go.
> 
> And a MASSIVE THANK YOU to RemingtonFae for helping me with beta and editing. You are a gem. Thank you.

Geralt hated portals.

 _Hated_.

Ciri was usually very smooth at taking them from place to place; her portals were easier on Geralt's senses than any other sorceress he travelled with. The moment his senses cut off was still unpleasant, though. For an instant his whole being screamed at him and the flight or fight response crawled over his skin.

But something was wrong with this jump. In the space between worlds, there was no sound, no smell, but the way Ciri’s hand clenched up on his wrist was as clear an indication of her distress as anything else could be. With his free hand he readied the Aard sign, just in case. After all, it wasn’t like they’d never portaled into the middle of danger before. Time stretched and Geralt couldn’t tell if they’d been caught in the magic moving them for a few seconds or much, much longer. 

Worry turned to panic as Ciri’s grip weakened. They weren’t out of the in-between yet! He flailed around to grab her by the waist, or at least he thought he did. Everything moved with a syrupy slowness. This had never happened before. He’d never even _heard_ of something like this happening. Could two people be caught in the dimension between worlds? Geralt very much did not want to find out. 

Witchers were tough, but this was sorceress business. Not something he either wanted or was able to cope with. 

When they finally fell through the other end, Ciri dropped like a stone onto the packed earth beneath them. Geralt didn’t fare much better, though at least he was conscious. His head was swimming and he struggled to keep upright. He shook his head and then blinked hard in an attempt to clear the swarming darkness in his vision. Without even thinking, he pulled his sword; habit of too many years of hunting and fighting. 

Geralt’s head settled down a bit and his eyes cleared. He blessed the witcher trials, the process that mutated him, giving him his physical enhancements. It took a lot to keep him incapacitated, and he recovered many times faster than a normal human would. 

They’d landed in the courtyard of a vast castle, and the last dying rays of the sun could be seen slithering off behind the tall spires; Geralt and Ciri sat right in the last remaining patch of sunlight. Shadows crept from the building and inched towards them, seemingly almost alive. 

Geralt’s night vision was fair, better than any normal human by far, but at that moment he cursed himself for not using a Cat potion before they jumped through a portal. The ability to see in total darkness would have come in handy right about then. Idiotic of him to think that the fighting was behind them. There wasn’t anything he could do about it right then, though. If they managed to live through the next few moments, Geralt swore he’d juice himself up properly. He could tell that there were some kind of plants growing along the courtyard walls, and there were banners hanging above the castle door, but the details of these things were lost in the darkness. 

As carefully as he could, he knelt down to put a hand to Ciri’s neck. She had a pulse, weak but steady. A quick glance proved that she wasn’t bleeding anywhere. Unlike Geralt. Whatever twisting and turning that they’d done in the void, followed by their harsh landing, had ripped open the gash along his side. He could feel the blood start to trickle down his waist and soak into his pants. Not a life threatening wound, not by a long shot, but one that could cause him issues if he had to take Ciri and flee. 

“Ciri,” he said quietly, the word followed by a shake to her shoulder. “Ciri, come on girl, wake up. Wake up!”

Nothing. 

_Just my fucking luck,_ he thought. From what little he could see, there was definitely movement in the shadows around them, though not a single menacing sound could be heard. He eased into a fighting stance and shifted the sword in his hand, readying himself. 

That’s when he felt it. 

Vibration coming from his witcher’s amulet. There was something nearby. Something monstrous. Dozens of different possibilities flashed through his mind as he tried to pin down exactly what kind of creature he was about to be fighting. 

Before he could do anything else, light flooded into the courtyard as the front castle doors opened. Standing right in the bright, warm light that radiated from indoors was a man. He quietly approached Geralt and Ciri. 

Geralt was struck by how beautiful the man was. He was tall and slender, but still powerfully built; the muscle underneath his fine clothes was obvious in the way he moved and held himself. Long, gorgeous white hair spilled down to his waist, and his eyes were a brilliant golden yellow. 

The color of a wolf’s eyes. 

The color of Geralt’s eyes, too. 

As the man approached, the vibrations of Geralt’s amulet became much stronger. Little inhuman details became apparent. Like how those golden eyes were nestled in pools of black instead of white. Geralt did not drop his guard. 

The way he walked made Geralt think he was a swordsman. It wasn’t only the hand he kept rested on the handle of his ridiculously long sword, the scabbard attached low to his hip. It was the way he moved, how he placed his weight, how he kept one foot just slightly forward. Geralt could bet he was a really quick draw. Probably liked to go low, too.

“Greetings and welcome. My name is Alucard, and you have arrived at my Father’s castle,” he said with a slight bow. It was respectful, but not deep. Nor did Alucard take his eyes off Geralt for even a second. 

_Vampire,_ Geralt thought. _One of the high bred ones as well._ Bizarrely, that actually set him a bit at ease. The low breeds were monstrous creatures, ravening fiends that fed with little discrimination. The high breeds didn’t even necessarily need to consume blood to live, and many of them carried themselves as they did before they were turned into a creature of the night. They could be reasoned with, talked to. 

Hell, Geralt had even spent a rather enjoyable night with three lovely ladies of that persuasion in a whore house in Vizima. Just thinking about them brought a smile to his face. That night was totally worth every single bite mark. 

He curbed his nostalgia. Now was not the time. For politeness sake, he eased up a bit with his stance, but he did not put away his blade. Steel wouldn’t do him a hell of a lot of good against this guy if they got in to it, but drawing his silver blade would only escalate matters. Geralt didn’t really want to kill his way out of there, especially not with Ciri still knocked out beside him. So steel would have to do for the moment. 

“I am Geralt of Rivia,” he said, with an equally wary yet respectful bow. “My companion and I seem to have arrived here by accident. We did not mean to intrude.” The fact that Ciri hadn’t moved at all set another spike of worry down his spine. He ignored it, and focused on the possible threat in front of him.

Alucard’s gaze flickered down to where Ciri lay, and then back behind him towards the castle. After a long moment, he nodded and waved to Geralt. “Bring her. We have beds aplenty, and these lands are not safe at night for weary travelers.” With that, Alucard turned his back to Geralt and led the way into the castle. 

It didn’t take more than a few heartbeats for Geralt to sheath his sword and follow. Much as he was loath to admit it, this was probably their best bet. Besides, unlike most of the remaining monster hunters in the world, Geralt knew that non-humans were not all terrible. Many of them were people, just the same as humans, and deserved the benefit of the doubt. 

Not to mention, this really did look like better luck than he had anticipated. He hoped that he wasn’t proven wrong.

\---

The moment he stepped through the huge castle door, he was glad he had studiously avoided starting a fight. The hall they entered was unimaginably huge. Geralt had never seen anything quite like it and, frankly, hadn’t realized a structure could even be built this way and not promptly collapse. It was lit up by thousands of glowing crystals, each one so small it could have fit in the palm of his hand.

His pendant was vibrating constantly now and he didn't need Ciri to tell him that it was magic keeping the crystals lit. Each one pulsed with a eerie blue light that only seemed to make the shadows deeper, more impenetrable. High arches were filled with sculptures, gold and jewels were everywhere. The display of wealth was beyond ostentatious, and Geralt found the amount of the decoration overwhelming. He was reminded of his first view of Nilfgaard, with it’s golden towers and light everywhere. At the time he had thought that was the most extravagant show of wealth he would ever see. 

This place trumped it easily with its elaborate sculptures. They covered everything, and depicted beautiful women and monstrous creatures, each one so lifelike that it all but crawled off the walls.

It wasn’t the questionable choice of decorations that gave him pause.

It was the dozen guards along the wall, clad in spiked, black half plate, and armed with cleavers as tall as they were. Each one also carried a massive tower shield engraved with black, twisting figures. What was truly odd was that the armor only seemed to cover critical movement joints; the chest was left bare. Geralt had the sinking suspicion that it was because a blow to the chest would be inconsequential for them. 

Each one of them looked to be a seasoned warrior, so tall that the crown of their heads easily reached twice as tall as Geralt. The bits of skin that were open to the air showed off an impressive amount of pale, veiny muscle, and their stance spoke clearly of the fact they knew how to use what they carried. The helmets they wore sported something akin to wings or ears, but left the face bare. They had glowing red eyes and a mouthful of jagged fangs that stuck up past their lips. Their eye sockets and noses were distorted into odd proportions, flaunting their demonic origins. 

If Geralt had to guess, he would say they were vampires of some lower breed, but he had never fought one quite so big and wasn’t keen on doing it now, with Ciri unconscious in his arms. The wound on his side throbbed and bled, he could feel the wetness of blood seeping deeper into his pants. He shifted Ciri a bit in his arms, and readyed the Aard again. 

Alucard was ahead of them; his white hair drifted like a banner against the dark blue and gold armored coat he wore. Geralt couldn’t sense any malice from him, but he sure as hell could sense it from the dozen monsters around him.

One of the creatures stepped forward and spoke. The language it used was a deeply guttural one; the words came out hissed and distorted by the fangs filling its mouth. It wasn’t like anything Geralt had ever heard before.

Alucard stopped, his hand going to rest on the hilt of that ridiculously long sword he wore at his side. Geralt figured it had to be a magical item, because no sword that long would ever be useful in battle.

“Don’t engage them, please,” Alucard spoke over his shoulder. “You don't want the castle to consider you an enemy.”

 _The castle_? Geralt said nothing, but neither did he let go of Aard. He wasn’t going to let himself be eaten without a fight.

“They are my guests,” Alucard spoke to the monster that stepped forward. “They will be treated with the same respect you afford me.”

Geralt could see the impact those words had on the guards. They shifted and looked amongst themselves doubtfully. After a long moment, the one that stepped forward, the leader, bowed to Alucard. The pause was long enough even Geralt understood the implied offense.

He could hear Alucard sigh and take his hand off his sword.

“You don’t have to fear them. They will obey their orders.”

“And if they don’t?” Geralt had to ask.

Alucard stopped, looking over his shoulder at Geralt. It was such an unexpected thing, to see someone else as bereft of color as Geralt himself was. The dark sclera of Alucard’s eyes only made his golden pupils shine that much brighter in the cold light of the crystals.

“My Father is not one to give his servants a choice in the matter. They obey, or they cease to exist.”

That did not sound promising. On the one hand, having the bloodthirsty monsters being kept in check was something Geralt was very much in favor of. On the other hand, Alucard’s father sounded like one ruthless man.

Alucard led him to the set of stairs to the left, the polished stone giving way to grey marble and then, after a few steps, to white marble. The stairs were wide and easy to ascend. After two flights they ended up on a wide landing that branched out into two long, shadowed corridors.

In the central part, made of wood and brass was small chamber with open doors. Not just small, but _tiny_ , with barely enough room inside to fit in six trim men standing close together. Given how Geralt was holding Ciri in his arms, and how both Geralt and Alucard were armored, it was still a bit of a squeeze. 

Alucard entered it first and after a certain hesitation. Ciri’s boots dragged over the polished wood panels in the tight space and Geralt had to shift her unresponsive body and turn to clear the entrance. He waited, and then looked to Alucard with his eyebrows raised in question; Ciri’s quiet breath was the only sound to echo in the tiny space. 

Alucard didn’t seem to be phased at all by the fact they were now hemmed in in this closet. Instead, he stared at the white plaque on the wall. It showed an image of a snarling wolf, not unlike Geralt’s witcher pendant. Written in big, block letters above and below the picture were the words: _No Wolves Allowed_. 

Briefly Geralt wondered why he could even read the language. Also, what did that even mean? He was called the White Wolf, but it seemed unlikely that anyone in this place ever heard of his moniker. He looked at Alucard, but the white haired vampire was busy studying the plaque with unreadable expression.

“You got a lot of wolves here?’ Geralt asked, trying to sound neutral.

“Just the one,” came a laconic response.

Alucard then turned to one of the wall panels. Unlike the others, this one was covered with a brass plaque containing small, round jewels, each about the size of a cloak button. They were all the same deep, wine red, and were spaced evenly in two vertical rows. 

Each round gem had a number assigned to it, and Geralt watched with interest as Alucard pressed a button marked with number five. He twitched as the entrance to the small room was suddenly closed by a crate that slid in from a hidden compartment on the left side of the entrance. Once it clicked into the place, a series of loud clanks and groans could be heard, and the whole room jerked. Jerked and swayed and they were _moving_.

“Impressive,” Geralt said quietly. He’d seen something like this, but not nearly so...advanced. Where in the world had they appeared?

“Old fashioned rather,” Alucard murmured, “but it’s still more sign of progress than I would have expected in my Father’s castle. Humans have much more advanced machinery.”

Interesting that Alucard would specify what _humans_ were doing. He wasn’t even trying to hide that he wasn’t one of their number. Although, looking around the grand hall and the monstrous guards, perhaps that was a moot point. Still, in the countries that Geralt was more familiar with, non-humans were no warmly welcomed. Not by a long shot.

“You are not even trying to look like a human, are you?” Geralt asked, curiosity prickling at him like a disgruntled cat.

“The way you do?” Alucard cast his glance over Geralt and, disturbingly, Ciri. “No use.”

“I’m a witcher. People already know I’m not like them.” His reply was unruffled. Being an outcast was part and parcel to the job. He’d long ago accepted it.

“What’s a witcher?” Alucard asked. “It’s not one of the demonic species, as you would already be under the castle’s control.”

Now that was even more interesting. Granted, witchers were becoming more and more uncommon, what with what happened at Kaer Morhen. But even as diminished as they were, witchers were still known, even if only as legend. 

The bit about how demons were under the building’s power was also somewhat disturbing, but, well, not as bizarre as it could have been. It definitely felt like the castle was its own entity. The walls seemed to press down and in on them, though when Geralt looked at them directly they never moved.

“Monster hunter for hire,” Geralt said with a smirk, side-eyeing Alucard to see his response. “It’s a bit more complicated than that, but, eh. Sellsword with a specialization, basically.”

“You don’t smell like human,” Alucard said quietly, and looked Geralt in the eye. There wasn’t even a trace of a wince in his expression, which was what Geralt usually got from people when they had to meet his cat-like eyes. “Neither does she, although in different way than you.” 

Alucard raised one of his hands, the heavy gauntlet aiming towards Ciri and Geralt tensed. Alucard seemed to notice the tension and stopped, lowering his hand after a beat. “She smells heavily of magic. You have also been touched by it, but not nearly to the same extent. That may be why she’s asleep.”

It was tempting to just explain that he was enhanced, mutated by magic to be a superior hunter. But the situation seemed tenuous enough that he was hesitant to even give that away. His mutation was common knowledge in his home lands, but something was drastically amiss here. Safer to stay silent on the details while he got a grip on what was going on.

“I’m both human and not,” was what Geralt ended up saying, after a few moments of thought. He’d certainly started out human, at least. That was close enough.

“I used to be human, too,” Alucard said under his breath, so quiet Geralt wasn’t sure he would have heard him if his hearing wasn’t enhanced.

The contraption they were in jerked, clanging loudly and then, with a mechanical series of clicks and clacks the grate covering the door opened. Geralt raised his eyebrows in surprised and craned his neck a bit to peek out into the hall.

The corridor they were let out to was again of a size he would have been hard pressed to find anywhere else. Red, rich carpets covered the floor made of polished hematite, each one covering a space big as his outstretched arms. He couldn’t imagine who would be able to build this place, or even how they could accomplish such an unbelievable task. Along the walls heavily decorated with sculptures were huge, carved doors spaced sparsely throughout the whole corridor. His enhanced sight allowed him to pick out the decidedly risque artwork; the naked bodies carved lovingly into the thick wood seemed to writhe in ecstasy, or maybe pain.

“We can let her rest here.” This time Geralt noticed that even though Alucard reached to touch the door, it started swinging open before his gauntlet actually made contact with the carved wood. “She will be safe, I swear.” Alucard stepped away, letting Geralt see the room beyond the door.

As with everything he saw so far in this castle, the room was enormous and lusciously furnished in a style he had never seen before. There were pillows. Pillows everywhere, in all colors of the rainbows. They scattered over the floor in thick piles around the equally enormous fireplace, circled a low table that one would have to sit on the floor to use, and covered the low bed that took up a good fourth of the space. It looked as if it would easily house at least eight grown men, much less a single slip of a girl like Ciri. 

What caught his attention were the narrow, very high windows. The tops of them were stained glass, adding color and warmth to the room at large, but the lower part was clear glass that showed the snow covered mountain tops beyond.

Geralt carefully placed Ciri on the bed, but couldn’t help but look suspiciously around while doing so. He checked her pulse. Still steady, and a bit stronger than it was then when they first arrived. A moment of digging through his belt netted him a Swallow potion, though he hesitated to use it in front of Alucard. No telling what the man might think of Geralt’s alchemy.

“Thank you,” Geralt said evenly. “I really appreciate your hospitality, but please, don’t bother to trouble yourself further. We’ll stay until she wakes, and then be on our way.”

“You don’t understand,” Alucard said in an almost pitying voice. “Nothing happens in this castle without my Father’s will. I can not tell if he had a hand in bringing you here, which I doubt since he is not very fond of visitors, but I can bet that you will not be able to leave without his assistance.”

Well, that was unwelcome news. Not entirely surprising though. Geralt debated his options. 

“You swore she would be safe. Does that vow extend to your father’s actions as well?”

Alucard hesitated, not lying per se but definitely weighing his options.

“I doubt he will want to hurt you or your companion.” Alucard’s voice was smooth like wine, and very low. “If need be I will stand between you and my Father. You will have my sword should my word fail you.”

Geralt was struck by all of Alucard’s responses. They seemed very honest. An out right promise of unconditional safety would have set off more warning bells than the conditional response that was actually given. Against his better instincts, Geralt was really starting to like Alucard. He hoped they wouldn’t end up in a fight.

He nodded. “I appreciate your candor, and thank you for your offer. You wouldn’t mind, of course, if I added a few protections around where she sleeps? Just to be sure?”

Alucard bowed his head, the long, messy hair falling in wisps over the armored guards of his shoulders.

“Do anything you feel will help. I am aware that the company of monsters is not the most reassuring one.”

That actually made Geralt smile a bit. It was a strange sensation to not be lumped in with the monsters. “Thanks,” he said, and popped the top to the Swallow potion. 

He leaned over Ciri’s sleeping body and scanned her again for injury. Noticing that nothing further seemed amiss, he had to conclude that the sleep was just a result of being magically drained. Wherever they were, it had taken everything Ciri had to get them there, and more. Alucard had also implied that it had something to do with the castle, too, and its morally ambiguous owner. That was something Geralt feared he would have to deal with sooner rather than later.

Carefully, he lifted her head and slowly poured the potion into her mouth. Every other heartbeat, he stopped to rub her throat, forcing her to drink the liquid. Swallow would help her heal, and quickly. If the sleep was just from being magically drained, Ciri would awaken in a matter of hours. If it was from something more sinister, well. Then the Swallow potion would keep her as hale and healthy as possible while under those effects. He debated about adding another potion, but then decided against it. She wasn’t a mutant like him. Her body wouldn’t handle the aftereffects well. 

Once that was done, he pocketed the empty bottle and took a step back. This next bit would be a bit more complicated than his usual combat casting, so he took a minute to settle himself. He raised his arms, summoning the power of the elements, and crooked his fingers into the proper position for activation. As soon as the gathering energies reached their peak, he focused his will and cast a combination of the Yrden and Quen signs over Ciri’s sleeping form. 

Brilliant purple and yellow motes of light manifested all around her. The purple settled itself into an elaborate circled design on the bed, with Ciri at its center. The yellow drifted upwards and around her until it settled into a solid, bright shield. As soon as the signs fully manifested, they disappeared. Geralt could still sense them; they burned against his sight like an afterimage. He knew through experience, though, that they would be completely invisible to anyone else. Other spell casters might sense the energy, but really only witchers knew exactly what to look for to spot the trap.

Anything that touched Ciri now would be in a world of pain, she would be safely ensconced behind the best barrier Geralt could muster. Given how elaborate this castle and its servants were, it was very possible that the lord of the manor would be able to weather the damage from the trap as well as overcome the barrier. But Geralt would know if the trap released, and he’d be on his way to the rescue. 

He smirked with satisfaction, and turned to look at Alucard. The expression he got back was priceless. Those bright wolf-like eyes were wide with shock, his lips were very slightly parted, and the barest hint of a blush dusted his cheeks. That only made Geralt’s smirk grow wider.

 _Huh. Liked what he saw, did he? I can work with that._ He eyed Alucard up and down, thoroughly taking in all that beauty and power. Geralt ended the appreciative inspection by locking eyes with him. A tiny curl of satisfaction trailed up his spine as he saw Alucard’s eyes widen a fraction more. 

The look only lasted a moment, and then Alucard ducked his head to the side and licked his lips. A nervous gesture, perhaps, but one Geralt certainly enjoyed watching in action.

“Thank you for waiting,” Geralt said smoothly. “I’m ready to go see your father now.” He did briefly consider downing a few potions, but perhaps that was better left for right before the introduction. Sometimes it was hard to gauge these things, and many of the most effective potions only lasted a few minutes.

But Alucard shook his head. Apparently the subject change was enough for him to get his bearings back, because Alucard looked at Geralt with nothing but measured calm. “You’re wounded and worn from your travels. First, you should bathe. Then I’ll dress your wound.”

As far as Geralt was concerned, that was a _fantastic_ idea. 

It didn’t seem likely that Alucard was propositioning him; everything about their interaction so far screamed ‘shy’ or ‘inexperienced’. At least as far as sex was concerned. In every other respect, Alucard seemed frighteningly competent. He was obviously a powerful fighter, though exactly what style he used wasn’t clear by how he moved. Geralt’s signs had impressed him, but had not surprised him, so that meant he was no stranger to magic. Possibly he even had a few tricks of his own up his sleeve. Vampires often did, after all. 

Honestly, the competence was an extra turn on. 

So even if the whole bath and bandage routine wasn’t a pick up line, Geralt was willing to turn it into one. He liked what he saw, and thought he might have read Alucard well enough to think the other man felt the same. He’d see how far he could tempt things, and if Alucard wasn’t interested? Well, Geralt still needed a bath and a bandage. 

He’d have to be careful not to offend his host, sure, but Geralt had a fair bit of practice with that. 

So he smiled warmly with just a touch of rueful self depreciation, and nodded. “Yeah, ha, you’re probably right about that. Lead the way.” 

After a single backward glance towards Ciri, Geralt followed Alucard out the door and down the impressive hallway once more. Several turns and a doorway later, and they stepped through to probably the most elaborate bathing room Geralt had ever even heard of. 

The doorway opened up to a vast room. High above them, more thin stained glass windows lined the area near the distant ceiling. It must have been full dark outside, because only the faintest hint of moonlight shone through the jewel toned glass. The walls and floor were built of polished basalt; the black stone seemed to shimmer in the light cast from the occasional blackened metal candelabras that graced the space. Most of the large space was dominated by a vast bathing pool. Columns rose up out of the water and held up the ceiling, and stray waterfalls gently trickled down from the sides of the room, guided to the main pool by small channels carved into the rock. Steam billowed up off the water, smelling faintly of minerals. 

On the surface of the water, there were floating trays containing shallow baskets. Each one was filled to bursting with either flowers, soaps, or tiny ornate glass vials filled with liquids of different colors. The flowers were all varieties that he recognized, but the soaps gave off a certain herbal, sweet scent Geralt couldn’t place. Some of the floating trays contained small cups, filled with dark liquid he could definitely recognize as wine; their earthy scent curled gently under the other fragrances.

It was fair to say that the scene took his breath away. If Alucard noticed, he was too polite to say anything. Instead, he waved Geralt over to a table upon which rested various towels, even more soaps, and what appeared to be some bandages and salves. “Let me know if you need anything else. I’ll return once you’ve finished bathing.” He turned to leave.

“Wait,” Geralt said quickly. Alucard paused mid-step and raised an eyebrow at him. “Wait. Would you--- ha. I feel kind of stupid for asking…” Geralt ducked his head and wrapped one hand around his injured side. 

Granted, the gash that was weeping and crusting into his clothes was quite nasty. Possibly crippling for a human. For a witcher, though, especially one as enhanced as Geralt was, it was simply an extremely irritating distraction. It wasn’t even particularly painful, on the grand scale of things. One of the side effects of Geralt’s increased stamina was that the sensation of pain didn’t register as strongly for him. He could still feel it, but it wasn’t debilitating like it could be for a regular human. 

Alucard didn’t know that, though. Sure, he’d noticed that Geralt wasn’t quite human, but he wouldn’t yet have a gauge for how quickly he could heal, or how much damage he could take.

The silence stretched for a moment as Geralt waited to see how Alucard would handle the show of weakness. 

“You need help.” There wasn’t a hint of judgement in Alucard’s voice. That made Geralt like him even more. 

“If you’ve nowhere else to be,” Geralt said with a small smile. “I can probably handle it on my own, but---”

“But there is no sense in aggravating that wound further,” Alucard finished for him, and walked over to gently guide Geralt to the table of supplies. 

He was suddenly struck by how tall Alucard was. Geralt was used to towering over most people he met, but Alucard actually topped him by about an inch. Maybe it was just how close they were standing, or perhaps it was the lie of delicacy that Alucard’s thin frame gave him, but it was a bit of a surprise to look up to see his face rather than look down. And what a pretty face it was. Those sinfully lush lips looked absolutely biteable, and Geralt couldn’t help but think he wanted to see them wrapped around something hot and hard. 

He started to unbuckle his gear, carefully setting his swords and potions behind him on one of the chairs. When he got down to his armor, he didn’t need to fake the wince that twisted across his face as a fresh trickle of blood flowed down his side. He really had to wonder how much the smell of his blood was affecting Alucard. If it was even effecting him at all. Not all high bred vampires were so easily influenced by smell alone. Geralt didn’t mind if he was, though. It just made the game more interesting, and potentially even shifted the odds in his favor even as it raised the risks.

“Here, let me.” Alucard’s voice was soft and concerned. 

Geralt looked up to see Alucard pulling off first one of the heavily armored gauntlets and then the second, revealing big, unscarred hands with long fingers. He dropped the gauntlets onto the nearest available chair with a small clang and started on the fastenings of his heavy coat. The garment looked expensive, definitely not something Geralt could afford, but it was also clearly designed for battle rather than the court. He watched, interested, as the buckles gave under the skillful fingers and then Alucard was pushing it off his wide shoulders. Underneath was a pristine white shirt with an elaborate white cravat cinching it closed at the neck. Whatever it was made of was so fine a weave that Geralt couldn’t tell at a glance what the material was. It looked too sturdy for silk, but too soft for linen or cotton. Each voluminous sleeve ended with a thick cuff, held closed by silver buttons. Beautiful as well as functional. 

The lines of his shirt showed off the powerful figure underneath. There was something unfinished about him, about the sheer breadth of his shoulders. It was as if he hasn’t finished growing, like there was still this promise of more in his frame. Given what Geralt knew about vampires, he had to wonder just how old Alucard really was. He could well be older than Geralt himself. It made that slight shyness even more intriguing. This was a man who had dedicated his life to fighting. What a delight it would be to educate him on the pleasures of the flesh. After all, no one can fight all the time.

Geralt watched as Alucard took off the multiple belts that held the long scabbard to his hip and put it on top of the coat. Once the scabbard was uncovered, Geralt could see runes inscribed down the full length of it; the whole thing faintly radiated with power.

“That’s a very long sword,” he commented.

Alucard looked up at him, some of his messy, uneven hair in his eyes. It made him look so much younger than he probably was. Geralt had this strange urge to think of the vampire as younger than himself, even, which was likely ridiculous.

“It’s called the Crissaegrim,” Alucard said, and reached out one hand with those unfairly long fingers and ghosted a gentle touch over the scabbard. “It wields the power of the Vampire Killer, not only destroying but forever punishing the creatures it cuts, as well as the power of ice and fire.”

Okay, Geralt very much wanted one for himself now.

“Got any spares lying around?”

Alucard smiled at him, a quick upturn of lips that was soon replaced by the serious expression again.

“It’s unique. I forged it myself out of the remnants of three other blades.”

Geralt couldn't help but be appreciative of the way Alucard looked, half undressed with his hair falling over his shoulders. Geralt wanted to see that hair wrapped in his tight grip, wanted to pull it back to see that lovely throat exposed. Alucard’s slim hips were tightly encased in the dark leather of his pants and the frankly amazing high boots that reached halfway up his thighs. Very nice thighs, too. 

He stood still as Alucard finally approached him. With deft, careful fingers, Alucard undid the many buckles and ties that kept Geralt’s leather and mail armor patched together. His head was slightly bowed, intent upon his work. Geralt leaned in just a touch and took in the scent of frost and blood and power. There was just a hint of something else, too. He was tempted to say it was arousal, but it was faint enough and Alucard’s scent was unfamiliar enough that he couldn’t quite tell.

“Thank you,” he breathed into Alucard’s hair, right next to his ear. It was close, intimate almost, and Geralt could feel the hands on his clothes stutter for a second. But only for a second. He suppressed a smirk.

When the armor fell away, Geralt turned his head just as Alucard was looking up. They ended up with barely a half-hand length between them. That lovely faint blush was back on Alucard’s cheeks and it made Geralt want to grin and growl. Later, maybe.

“Would you help me with my shirt?” Geralt asked. He didn’t bother trying for innocence. Alucard wouldn’t have bought it. Instead he put a hint of challenge into his eyes, and let his own hunger shine through a touch. Just a slight smile and an almost baring of teeth. Enough to show intent, but not really enough to bully. As much as it would have disappointed him, Geralt wouldn’t pursue if Alucard truly was uninterested. That kind of game had never appealed to him. Given his reputation and manners, it was generally unnecessary, too.

Alucard’s gaze dropped to his mouth. Several lightning fast emotions crossed his face, and eventually smoothed out into his standard neutrality. Instead of answering verbally, he carefully unlaced the top of Geralt’s shirt and lifted it over his head. 

Then he just stared. 

Geralt’s chest was a map of scars, not even including the wound that was still actively bleeding down his side. Claw marks, cuts, burns, and bite marks of all kinds littered his body. Evidence of a long and dangerous life. Geralt let him look as long as he liked.

For just a second it seemed like Alucard would reach out and touch him, but the movement aborted as soon as it started. Pity. 

Time to press his luck. 

“And my pants and boots?” 

The startled look he got in response to that only lasted a second, but it was enough that Geralt knew he’d have to start that little show off himself. He reached down and unbuttoned his trousers, one slow button at a time. Once his fly was open, the fabric fell open just enough to show smooth skin and the root of his half-hard cock. He trailed his hand up the edge of the fly and around the waist. Ostensibly, he was trying to unstick the blood crusted fabric from his hips. Really, he was just bringing the fantastic line of his hips to Alucard’s attention. He pulled down on the side of his pants, showing off the upper swell of his thigh and ass, and giving his cock another free inch. 

Alucard stood frozen, watching the slow play of fabric and blood over his alabaster skin. That adorable blush darkened just a shade. But then the painful neutrality was back, and Alucard was all business. 

“Of course.” He fixed his gaze off to the side, firmly away from anything fun. First he untied the lacings on the tall leather boots that Geralt favored. As soon as they were off, he eased the clothes down and carefully helped Geralt step out of each pant leg. 

The points where Alucard’s slightly cool fingers trailed across bare leg left a tingling feeling that lingered long after the touch was gone. Seeing Alucard on his knees in front of him was doing Geralt no fucking favors either, regardless of where Alucard was looking.

Before he could stand up, Geralt asked, “Join me?” There was a long pause. “In the bath?”

Alucard stood up swiftly and turned his back to him, and took a couple steps away for good measure. 

_Ah,_ Geralt thought with disappointment. _Probably wasn’t a smart idea anyways._

He gathered a couple of random bottles and a clean hand towel and made his way over to the bath. There didn’t seem to be any steps downward, and the water was just murky enough with minerals that he couldn’t quite see the bottom. After setting the supplies on the ledge, he eased himself down so he could dangle his feet in the water. 

It felt like absolute bliss. Geralt couldn’t even remember the last time he’d had a hot bath like this. One with unlimited hot water and space? Incredible. 

Even with his feet gently swaying beneath the surface, he still couldn’t touch the bottom. Geralt hesitated for a moment, debating about if he should just jump in and hope for the best. It couldn’t possibly be _that_ deep. It was a bath, after all. 

Before he could make a decision, though, he heard two loud thumps, a rustle and then Alucard waded up to him in the bath. And, oh, what a lovely sight that was. The water came up to just under his chest, his gorgeous, nude chest that was now misted with water droplets. Like Geralt, he seemed to be hairless from the neck down. For Geralt, this was just another side effect of the mutation that made him a witcher, but he had to wonder if it was genetics or monstrous heritage that granted Alucard the same feature. 

One massive, deadly looking scar bisecting his chest, but the rest of his skin was completely unblemished. His long hair trailed into the water around him. The steam straightened it out a bit, but once those beautiful strands hit the water, they fanned out underwater like a magical cloud.

As much as Geralt wanted to drink in every inch of Alucard’s newly revealed body, it was the scar held his attention. It went from the left hip almost to his right shoulder, deep and wide. The scarring pattern seemed odd, as if the flesh knitted together too harshly. But it was also pale and obviously old. He wondered at what kind of attack had struck him, that it would leave such a scar. This kind of damage had surely come from a mortal wound.

“How did you survive this?” Geralt waved his hand at the mark. He expected magic to be the reason, really. It would explain why the scar looked so odd.

Alucard paused, lifting his fingers to touch the tips to the scar at his heart level. He looked sad then.

“I didn’t,” he said simply. “My Father cut me down before he knew who I was, and then used his blood to turn me in an effort to reverse what he did.” Alucard huffed out a half laugh. “In a way he became my Father twice over that way.”

A turned vampire? That was a surprise. Geralt expected Alucard to be a high born vampire, one of those that came to be as they are. Not to have been turned from a human. Every single vampire that was turned that Geralt ever met did not have this kind of control or poise, much less obvious power. Alucard said his father turned him. Geralt had to wonder if his father had been a vampire during the initial conception. He didn’t think that was even possible. It was turning out that most of Geralt’s assumptions were wrong and it both excited him as well as terrified him. Just where _did_ he land?

“I’m sorry,” Geralt offered quietly but Alucard only shrugged.

“It’s an old story now, we made our peace with it.” Alucard looked up to where Geralt sat on the ledge, but stayed just out of reach. “There are benches along the sides. It is safe to jump down.”

A hint of humor flashed across Geralt’s face. He had to admit, he’d been stalling a bit. That wound was going to sting like a bitch in the hot water, especially when he cleaned it out. He had a fair bit of pain suppression along with his increased stamina and strength, but even that could only do so much. 

_Best get it over with._

As slowly as he could, he eeled into the water. His face twisted into a hard grimace as his torso touched the water. Then there were warm, wet hands on him, lending their strength to guide him easily into the pool. Breath hissed out of him as the mineral water soaked into the jagged gash. Once he was settled on his feet, he looked at the hands on his arm and chest, and then followed them up to Alucard’s face. 

“Thank you,” Geralt said, his voice low and husky. He beamed a smile at Alucard. That lovely little blush on Alucard’s cheeks deepened, and a hint of it showed across his chest too. Maybe it was just the hot water, but maybe it wasn’t. 

Geralt wasn’t surprised at all when Alucard swiftly dropped his hands and took a step back. Slightly disappointed, maybe, but the night was still young and they’d made a hell of a lot of progress already. Sometimes the seduction was just as exciting as the sex. Geralt looked forward to slowly teasing Alucard into action.

He grabbed a washcloth from the ledge and soaped it up. Then with sure, slow strokes, Geralt lathered himself up. Even though his gaze was firmly on his task, he kept a careful watch on Alucard in his excellent peripheral vision. As Geralt had begun washing himself, Alucard had leaned his back against the side of the bath and slid down to sit on the underwater ledge, his head tilted as his eyes followed that cloth as it cleaned. It must not have been a very deeply set bench, because even sitting the water line only reached just under the line of Alucard’s shoulders. 

A plan unfolded in Geralt’s mind and he withheld a smile.

He continued washing, slowly but surely getting every trace of dirt off of himself. After he finished his face, arms, and most of his chest, he drifted over to the bench and sat down. It wasn’t a coincidence that he made sure that his wounded side was towards Alucard. 

The hot water had already begun to work its magic, relaxing his tired muscles and easing away all the troubles of the day. Geralt let his eyelids grow heavy and he tilted his head back onto the stone behind him with a happy groan, exposing his neck just a little. _Not very subtle,_ he thought to himself, _but sometimes subtle is overrated._

Just knowing that Alucard, in all his perfect beauty, was sitting next to him naked was enough to bring heat to Geralt’s groin. Alucard was interested, he wouldn’t be in the pool otherwise, but he was holding back. 

Time to see if Geralt could tempt him further. 

Washcloth in hand, Geralt grabbed some more soap and lathered up the material as much as he could. With his eyes still mostly closed, he gave his upper chest a cursory swipe and then slowly inched it down, following the center line of his pecs and abs, down to his swollen cock. Given the opaqueness of the water, there was no way that Alucard would be able to see what Geralt was doing. But he would definitely be able to guess. Geralt almost wanted to grin, but he kept his face relaxed, focused on his ‘cleaning’. 

Cloth in hand, he stroked his cock up and down. God, what torture that was. Rough and soft at the same time, and oh so good. Geralt could see out of the corner of his eye that Alucard was just outright staring at him now. Good. The show wasn’t even close to being done. 

He didn’t want to work himself up too much. After all, Alucard still wasn’t one hundred percent on board. So after only a couple of strokes, Geralt eased the cloth down to gently rub around and under his balls. He let his eyes flutter for a moment and bit his lower lip. The swift intake of breath next to him was music to his ears.

After thoroughly washing his front, he brought the cloth up for another round of soap. Then he twisted his body just a bit, ignoring the twinge in his wounded side, and reached down his back to clean his ass. Normally, Geralt prefered to top, but he wasn’t opposed to a little assplay himself if the situation called for it. And having Alucard’s burning hot gaze on him while he fingered himself open with a soapy washcloth, well, that certainly was worth it. At first he didn’t go very deep; soft though it was, the cloth was still rough on that tender part of his body. Every single press and thrust made him want to roll his hips and rut against something, anything. It wasn’t the time for that yet, though, and Geralt kept himself under control. He was supposed to be just teasing here, not trying to get himself off. 

He let loose the tiniest of moans, and thrust into himself as deeply as he could and just held there. The sensation made his muscles stretch and burn, but not for more than a second, and then he was relaxing into it. When he pulled out, he just left the cloth on the bench next to him, and reached up to grab another. 

Geralt didn’t dare lock gazes with Alucard just yet. That might be enough to scare the man off permanently. No, first he had to lure Alucard into coming closer, and he had just the idea how. 

He soaped up the fresh cloth, lifted one arm up, and carefully began cleaning the wound at his side. The pain of it wilted his arousal a little, but not as much as one might expect. Pain just didn’t affect him as much as it did normal humans. He could still feel it when it was there, but it took an extreme amount to actually make him suffer. 

That didn’t mean he couldn’t play up the pain a bit, though.

A wrinkle formed on his brow and he bit his lip harder. Every time he rubbed with the cloth, he let out a harsh breath. When he reached around to try and clean the far edge of the wound, he let out a little, _uhh_ , and froze, as if suddenly struck by a sharp pain that he was repressing. 

Alucard moved then, the shift seeming sudden after the stillness for so long. His hair soaked up more of the moisture in the air and clung to his face and neck in sticky little tendrils, curling up in tiny curls here and there. His lips looked softer now. Warmer from the bath and the color on his face seemed a little more pronounced. He had one of his arms lifted, but held still. One of those aborted movements of his.

“You seem to be in pain.” He licked his lips. “Allow me to help.”

Geralt did not smirk, he kept his face under strict control as he shifted closer to Alucard.

“That would be great actually. I hate pulling at it when I twist.” He handed over the cloth and put a grateful smile on his face. 

He could see Alucard trying to find a position that wouldn’t be too intimate but there just wasn’t any. Eventually he shifted closer to Geralt and turned on the bench so that one of his legs was braced on the bench.

“Can I rest my arm on your shoulder?” Geralt asked. “That way you can get to it...the cut, it’s kind of in a weird spot.” He waited patiently for Alucard to respond. No sense in rushing the man now. After a moment, Alucard nodded, and Geralt slid his hand up Alucard’s arm. He let his fingertips just barely touch that lovely neck, and absently rubbed the skin there with his thumb. A reminder, perhaps, of the things that vampires generally liked to do with necks. Geralt was not opposed to this at all, and when he felt a slight shiver run through Alucard, he knew he wasn’t the only one. 

Alucards hands were infinitely gentle in his body, as he touched the washcloth to Geralt’s shoulder. He tried to keep to the safer areas first, spending time on the arm Geralt had braced on him, dragging the soapy washcloth over the curve of Geralt’s bicep and the down to his elbow. It felt surprisingly good, that slow and careful attention. Eventually Alucard ran out of safe spots and Geralt could see the way Alucard licked his lips before he let the washcloth slide up to Geralt’s neck and then down his back, between his shoulder blades and to the small of his back where he spread his hand wide, pressing it to Geralt’s skin. He could feel goosebumps starting to form on his skin in reaction to that slow touch. He turned his head so that he was almost cheek to cheek with Alucard.

“You are very careful with me,” Geralt murmured.

“You have many scars,” Alucard said, casting him a sideways look before looking away again. His pupils were definitely more dilated this time.

“Someone once told me that scars are lessons learned.” A lopsided grin crossed Geralt’s face. “So for me, I supposed I’ve learned a whole lot.”

“I find it…” Alucard broke up, swallowing and obviously thinking of words to use. “It’s a proof of strength,” he decided on eventually.

 _Interesting._ Geralt looked curiously at Alucard, and then glanced down at himself. He was strong, that was true. Decades of fighting had taken a heavy toll on him, witcher or no. But if Alucard was interested…

“Do you want to hear about them?” he asked.

“Yes.” The answer came fast, almost too fast judging by the way Alucard’s eyes widened minutely; he started backtracking fast. “I’m not sure we have time, though.” His hand, wrapped in the soapy washcloth, was tracing the three parallel claw marks on Geralt’s back. Geralt wondered if he was even aware of what he was doing.

It was true enough that their time was limited, and there were plenty of stories etched on Geralt’s skin. More than enough for several nights of talking. “You show me which ones you want to hear about, and I’ll tell you.” He looked down at the water and thought quickly. “I have so many, and most are covered by the water.”

The washcloth moved to his side, gently skimming around the edges of the would and then back up to his shoulder, down his chest to rest over the round scar on his left pectoral muscle.

“This one,” Alucard’s voice was very low but also slightly rougher than it was before. “It’s such a strange shape.”

“Bruxa bite. Their teeth change as they shift forms. She caught me unawares, and got in a good mouthful as I was pulling my witcher’s blade. Nasty wound, though I was lucky to get out with just that. Four hundred silver for her head, as well as the pleasure of knowing the temple she was preying upon was safe.” That fight was a fast one, and at a time when Geralt was low on effective armor. He vowed after that to get some improved chainmail, and he’d never regretted spending the coin on it.

As he talked, Alucard seemed to relax more into the closeness. Geralt could feel the bone of his knee pressing into his hip where Alucard had it braced on the bench, the shoulder his arm was resting on no longer felt like it was made from stone, the tension easing off.

“And this one?” The washcloth slid lower, to Geralt’s side and pressed against a long gash that went from his lower belly to his hip bone.

“Wyvern. The tail was barbed, and this one had nested in a pack. I’d just beheaded the queen when a second snuck up from behind, wrapped its tail around me, and raked. There were three more on top of those two.” Geralt shook his head at the memory. That had been a close fight, and it was only his alchemy that had kept his intestines inside his body at the end of it. “That was more chance than anything else. Bad luck that I stumbled across them while looking for herbs. I still got a bounty at the local town, but it wasn’t one I would have looked for had I the choice.”

Alucard threw the washcloth away and pulled in one of the floating trays, the one with oils and soaps and little glass vials containing the different colored liquids. He picked a green vial and opened the cork. The smell that wafted out from the little bottle was very sharp, making Geralt’s nose tingle but also startlingly pleasant. It smelled clean and fresh, very alive. Geralt watched as Alucard poured the contents over a new washcloth, turning it slightly green and, strangely enough, foamy.

“This should ease the pain,” he said quietly, as he pressed it against Geralt’s side. It stung, making him hiss out a breath as a tingling sensation went out from his side, numbing the pain almost immediately.

“And this?” Alucard asked. He was still keeping the cloth pressed against his wound, but his other hand reached into the water and touched Geralt’s thigh. His cool fingers rested on the two parallel slashes there. 

The contact burned, causing Geralt’s cock to fill in a little more. So Alucard did pay attention when he was stripping him after all.

“Hounds of the Wild Hunt. Their leader follows me from time to time, and we’ve had more than one tussle. Dangerous creatures.” Having both of Alucard’s hands on him was ridiculously distracting. He leaned ever so slightly into the contact and let out a small breathy sigh.

“We should wash your hair, too,” Alucard offered, his voice definitely falling a few registers. “If you would turn around and lean against me.”

Alucard's hand was still on his thigh, the thumb making tiny, absent minded circles on the skin there.

Each little touch made Geralt’s cock throb with anticipation. He ducked his head down and whispered into Alucard’s hair. “Yes, please.” Careful not to dislodge Alucard’s hands, he shifted around and leaned back into Alucard’s embrace. They were close enough that he could feel that Alucard was’t unaffected. If he wasn’t mistaken, it was a half hard cock pressed against his ass and he shifted back even more, wishing to keep that contact between them. The thrill it sent down his spine was one of pure glee, similar to the feeling he got at any small victory or a new move mastered.

Alucard tensed briefly, but Geralt stopped moving and gradually the tension left him. He still kept his hands on Geralt, even if he didn’t venture anywhere more intimate.

“Thank you,” Geralt said quietly, and gave Alucard a soft smile. Time for a little reassurance. And perhaps a bit of guidance, too. He grabbed a small bottle of shampoo off of the ledge. Rather than giving it directly to Alucard, Geralt guided one of Alucard’s hands up and filled the palm with the sweet smelling soap. “Put your hand on my scalp. If you rub along the top of my head, you can feel where the scar across my eye reaches straight through my hair.”

Alucard did as instructed, his hands lifting out of the water and slid his long fingers into Geralt’s already wet hair. It didn’t take him long to feel out the scar and he traced it with his fingers, back and forth, back and forth, until Geralt groaned at the sensation. He could feel the reaction his vocalization provoked in Alucard, could feel the slight tremor and how the fingers pressed in more firmly at his scalp.

“That’s good. So good.” Geralt’s voice came out low and harsh. He struggled to keep still, not wanting to scare off Alucard with his enthusiasm. The man was still being shy, and Geralt wanted to make this good for him.

Alucard seemed to have made a decision then, shifting that little bit closer so that Geralt could rest his back against his chest more easily, slick skin on skin, and took the shampoo out of Geralt’s hand. The feel of it spilling onto his heated skin was pleasant and invigorating, another herbal scent mixing in with the already fragrant air. 

Then Alucard pressed his fingers strongly against Geralt’s scalp and massaged with both hands, sending a riot of goosebumps down his shoulders. It felt amazing, the firm, almost rough massage that awoke nerves that Geralt had all but forgot he had. The foam got thicker, sliding wetly down the side of his face but all he could do was close his eyes and groan his pleasure out loud. 

Gods it felt so good, the way Alucards long fingers slid through his hair, over the heated and sensitive skin of his scalp, the way he could hear Alucards breath coming in faster.

Eventually he pulled away, already so giddy with pleasure his skin was breaking out in random shivers just to deal with it. He let himself sink deeper into the water. Alucards hands followed him, helping him rinse out the shampoo, keeping it clear of his eyes. With the pain of his wound numbed to non existence and Alucard’s arm across his chest keeping him above the water, Geralt let himself relax into the water and the touch. He was nearly purring with the feeling, and the care in Alucard’s motions warmed up more than just his body. People were rarely careful with him, especially not after knowing he was a mutant.

“It’s done.” Alucard’s voice was just a shiver of breath against his ear and Geralt straightened out slowly, turning in the water to face him.

He kept the distance between them short, intimate, and caressed Alucard’s shoulder, bringing his hand up around Alucard’s neck. There he threaded his fingers into the base of that thick, beautiful mop of hair. “May I return the favor?”

He could see the dark pupils expanding, eating up the gold. 

“Yes,” Alucard said, voice barely a whisper. He looked at Geralt’s lips for a second, and then lower and to the side, before looking back to him again. His lashes were as snow white as his hair, but very long and slightly curved at the ends. They fanned out on his cheek, clumped together by moisture and Geralt thought he wanted to lick them.

Pressing the advantage, Geralt gently pushed Alucard so his back was to the bath wall. Then he settled in close, straddling Alucard’s legs with his own. The whole time he maintained their eye contact and kept them just a breath away from each other. It was extremely difficult not to grind down, to close that last little bit of distance and rut up against the glorious body beneath him, but now wasn’t the time. 

“Let’s get you soaped up,” Geralt said quietly, and poured a touch of shampoo into his hands. 

After getting a little bit of lather on his hands, he dug his fingers into Alucard’s shoulders and massaged there. Just for a moment, though, and then he dragged his hands up to Alucard’s neck and jaw, then back around to his skull, watching as Alucard’s eyes fell closed. That beautiful hair was as soft and smooth as it looked like it would be, and Geralt loved running his fingers through it. 

The fresh fragrance of flowers mixed in with Alucard’s natural scent. It was made Geralt grin and bare his teeth. He wanted to bite that perfect skin right up, see if it would leave pretty little red marks or if it would heal as fast as he suspected. His own cock was still hard and straining, an insistent pulsing that marched right along with his heartbeat. They were close enough that he could just barely feel that Alucard was hard, too. Geralt wanted to sit right down and rub, but he knew if he did that would short circuit any plans he had of seduction and might spook Alucard into running. Better to take things slow. 

While he continued to stroke and scratch Alucard’s head with one hand, the other he gently traced along an ear. To his mild surprise, it was slightly pointed; dainty and perfect, just like the rest of him. From the tiny shiver that raced through Alucard’s body, it was sensitive, too.

Alucard’s eyes fluttered open and he made a sound then, just a tiny exhale but he could hear the moan underneath. His hands rose up though the warm water and Geralt could feel them resting on his hips. The touch was very careful, almost unsure of it’s welcome, but also the most risky one Alucard made so far. He smiled, feeling the warmth of victory sweeping down his chest.

Geralt hummed in approval and tilted his head forward, nosing along Alucard’s jaw. So smooth and soft, he had to wonder if the man ever even had to shave. He wanted to lick his way up, but the watchwords _slow_ and _careful_ ran through his head like a prayer. So instead he simply dragged his nose up to that other, perfect ear and nuzzled into it, letting his breath ghost over the wet skin there. Alucard’s body twisted and shuddered under him, arching up into the sensation, his hand sliding from Geralt’s hip to his back and pulling him closer. 

With that encouragement, Geralt gave a careful little lick up to the point of that ear. By now their bodies were pressed closely together. Their cocks rubbed just perfectly next to one another, all hot and slick with the soapy water. So Alucard’s thrashing and shuddering turned into a slow, dirty grind up into Geralt’s hips. 

“That’s it,” Geralt whispered. “Show me what you like. Let me see how much you want this.”

Distantly he was aware of a new sound in the chamber, a familiar kind of quiet scuttling, but he was too focused on what he was doing to care much about it. Probably some rats or mice. They were hard to avoid in places this big.

“You are remarkably good at seduction.” Alucard didn't sound unhappy about it in the least, voice low and breathy as his lips moved just against Geralt’s.

“I like to master all the weapons in my arsenal,” Geralt replied, cheeky and high on desire. He loved being touched, loved touching his lovers in return, making them feel good. Alucard was a uniquely beautiful one and he could tell they were going to have so much fun together.

“I seem to have a type,” Alucard murmured and finally gave into what was happening, raising his arms to pull Geralt closer, hands sliding over slick skin, sending little shivers down his belly.

“Hopefully I can live up to expectation,” Geralt said with a smirk, and pulled Alucard in for a kiss. He let himself explore with his lips and tongue, licking and biting those plush lips. He traced around the sharp points of Alucard’s canines, first to map out exactly the area he would be plundering soon, but also so he could very deliberately prick his tongue on one of them. A risky move, but Geralt liked a bit of danger.

Alucard pulled back from the kiss, eyes too clear for what they were doing.

“I don't drink human blood.”

Geralt soothed him with a thumb across his jaw, and smiled softly. “Whatever you want to do is fine with me. I won’t tempt you with that again.”

“I have sworn to be a counter balance to my Father.” His eyes were softening, sliding down Geralt’s chest again. “I don’t prey on those weaker than me.” He met Geralt’s eyes. “Never have.”

Amusement raced through Geralt as he considered that Alucard might think him weaker because of his nature. He knew that probably wasn’t what the man was implying, likely it was just more of a general statement. But it still caused Geralt to quirk his eyebrow and smirk a bit. 

“I’m not generally prey.” He traced a finger over Alucard’s delicately pointed ear again, and nuzzled into his jaw. “But I don’t mind a little bit of a friendly chase now and again.”

“You like to court danger, don’t you?”

Geralt tilted his head back and forth a bit. “Eh. More that danger holds no fear for me, and sometimes the risks are worth the reward. All of life is a danger, and the sweetness that the world has to offer is worth striving for.” He began working his hands across Alucard’s scalp again, nudging him back into relaxation. “I...may also have a bit of a thing for strong partners. And you do look very strong.” That last word was accompanied by a very slight tug on Alucard’s hair. Geralt hoped he was reading the man right this time, and that the gesture would be welcomed.

Alucard’s eyes fluttered closed, mouth opening a little and Geralt couldn't help but smirk. Yes, he definitely was onto something here. He wrapped his fist around more of that glorious hair and pulled, making Alucard tilt his head back. It pulled a tiniest of moans out of those pale lips and Geralt felt the heat in his groin curl up even tighter making his dick twitch. Gods, he was pretty.

“Beautiful,” Geralt murmured into his skin. “And kind, too. So caring.” He pulled at Alucard’s hair again, forcing him to arch his neck into Geralt’s mouth. “So giving.” Now he gave into his own first impulse, and licked up the strong line of Alucard’s neck. 

He used one of his arms to brace himself on the edge of the pool, to counteract the slippery feel of the wet skin and anchor them more firmly together. With that leverage in place, he slowly ground down against Alucard’s rock hard abs. He leaned in to press his lips to that incredible jaw, and mouth his way back to Alucard’s lips, licking them open again.

It was good, so good. The slick, wet skin under his hands, the hard body slowly starting to move against him; he kept tight hold on those amazing locks and kissed deeper, wetter into Alucards mouth. His cock was so hard, the head dragging over the hard muscles. Geralt could feel Alucard’s cock sliding against the back of his thighs and his ass as they moved together in the water. 

The sudden flare of pain at his bicep made him rear up. He pulled back from the kiss with an _ahh_!

“Fuck!” Geralt shook his arm out. He caught sight of a small black rat perched just beyond his arms reach, staring at him with eyes that reflected red in the light.

Right. Demonic castle. Demonic rats. That made sense. He wondered if it was worth the power cost to just toss an Igni sign at the beast to make it flee.

“What happened?” Alucard was asking even as he was shifting in the water.

“A rat bit me, of all things.”

He did not expect the way Alucard would stiffen, tension locking up his muscles one by one. He moved away from Geralt, strangely stiff, and turned to look at the rat that still was just sitting there. Staring at him like it was mocking him.

“There are no rats here,” Alucard said slowly, locking his eyes on the vermin.

Geralt raised an eyebrow, and waited to see how this would play out. Clearly something else was going on. 

“This is a rat,” Geralt said after a long moment of watching Alucard watch the rat. “You are looking right at it,” he added helpfully.

“This is not a rat.” Alucard drew the words out again, and kept his eyes fixed on the creature.

“Alright.” Geralt narrowed his eyes. “What is it then?”

Alucard swallowed.

“I think we are being summoned.”

Whatever was going on here, it clearly had made Alucard a bit upset. His body language was stiff, closed off. All the momentum that they’d built up was lost. In so far as Geralt could tell, Alucard even looked a touch worried.

Geralt put the pieces together. 

The castle was alive, so it was probably watching. This was also Alucard’s father’s home, man who was a powerful enough vampire to both give Alucard the scar on his chest and also turn him into a vampire afterwards. 

Shit, was he going to have to deal with a pissed off parent? Was this the worst meet the parents situation ever? It wouldn’t have been the first time his dalliances had been interrupted by an angry father, but having that angry father be an ultra powerful creature of the night was a new one even for Geralt. 

“Can I take my swords with me?”

That pulled out a tiny smile from Alucard.

“You better.”

That made Geralt snort in amusement. He nodded and took a quick dunk in the water, getting the last of the soap off. Careful of his hurt side, he pulled himself out of the water onto the ledge. 

He tossed a teasing smile at Alucard and offered him a hand up, not bothering to hide the fact he was still more than half hard. After all it was Alucard’s doing; he would just have to deal with viewing Geralt in all his glory for a bit longer. More than that, he wanted Alucard to know that he was still interested, no matter what the lord of the manor wanted. After all, the last thing any adventurous child wants to hear is how a suitor was scared away by an overprotective parent. 

It sent a tiny shiver of excitement down his back at the way Alucard's eyes slid slowly over his body, clearly appreciative, and then got stuck on his middle before he blushed faintly and looked away. After a pause he lifted his arm to Geralt, letting himself be pulled out of the water.

Geralt couldn’t help but notice that Alucard wasn’t completely unaffected, his long cock definitely plumped up. Much like Geralt, Alucard seemed to be devoid of hair anywhere but on his head. Geralt thought that he would have liked to lick around that cock, taste all the smooth skin there, and see just how it looked when completely hard.

“Still willing to help bandage me up?” Geralt asked hopefully.

Alucard walked over to the table of supplies and beckoned Geralt closer. A wide grin stretched across Geralt’s face, and he easily complied. But when he got close enough, Alucard put a single finger on Geralt’s chin and tilted his face upwards so they were again looking eye to eye. There was a hint of mischief to his eyes, though, so Geralt wasn’t too worried. “Behave, or this will take too long and we will be summoned more forcefully.”

“Ah, but surely just a look couldn’t hurt?” Geralt widened his eyes with false innocence. “After all, you’re the one doing the touching.”

“You are incorrigible.” There was an edge of mirth in Alucard’s voice. “But this is not laughing matter. He is not known for his patience.” 

Geralt had to nod in acknowledgement to that, but still didn’t stop his eyes from lingering down Alucard’s dripping body. “It has been said that I am more persistent than is strictly necessary.”

“I can see that.”

“Staying power is important for a witcher.” Geralt winked flirtatiously.

“Let’s hope a rat bite is all you end up with,” Alucard murmured, tilting his head down and letting the hair obscure his face again.

Sadly, he was right. There was more at stake here than just a night of pleasure, though it was honestly a joy to see the shy signs of pleasure and appreciation shine from Alucard’s face. It seemed like that might be a thing he wasn’t used to, and wasn’t that a pity. Geralt briefly wished for an hour or two to meditate. There were potions he could make that would bolster him against vampire specifically, but there simply wasn’t the time to do so. Probably wouldn’t be prudent, either. He’d go meet the lord of the manor ready for whatever happened, but actively seeming like he was there for a fight wouldn’t help matters at all. 

Alucard reached for the vials and uncorked one that smelled a bit like the green oil he used to numb Geralt’s wound earlier. He watched as Alucard poured a dose on the fresh bandage and then turned back to Geralt.

“Let’s get you presentable.”

“Good luck with that,” Geralt said with a self depreciating snort. “Better people than both of us have tried and failed with that task.” 

“I find it hard to believe,” Alucard said quietly, pressing the bandage against his wound and starting to unroll it over his chest. The herbal scent tickled his nose and he had to wrinkle it to stop himself from sneezing.

“A wolf is a wolf is a wolf. You can brush its fur and wipe its paws, but the teeth and claws are still there.” Geralt let his mind wander a bit. A lifetime of fighting and bleeding and even dying raced behind his eyes. He was never good at court functions. Heavy politics always frustrated him. Fighting was what he was made for, and it showed.

“In this castle, teeth and claws are better regarded than any finery.” Alucard was quick with the bandage, leaning in close to layer it thickly around Geralt's chest and sides.

Geralt dismissed the dark thoughts from his mind and smiled wickedly at Alucard. “And yet, you wield both with aplomb. Gorgeous and dangerous.” He let his gaze trail over Alucard’s body once more. “I’m lucky to even be this close to you, let alone be touched by you.”

This time the blush was the darkest of them all and Alucard tilted his face away as soon as he noticed Geralt watching him.

“You have a gift for compliments. It may come in handy.” The words were cautious, and Geralt could hear both amusement and mild worry in them. 

At that, Geralt shook his head a bit ruefully. “Learned in self defense. Sorceresses are tricky ladies.” He shook the thought off, then peered at Alucard inquisitively. “What kind of man is your father?”

“He is...” Alucard’s voice did something odd then. There was a tiny hitch in the sound, and then the words came out a touch rough. Almost breathy, even. The change wouldn’t be audible to a normal human but Geralt's enhanced hearing picked out the odd tones. “He’s a man of passion, desires, and unquenchable rage. He’s also too stubborn to let any of those emotions rule him.”

“What does rule him then?” Forewarned was forearmed, after all. 

Alucard wasn’t looking at Geralt, eyes firmly on the task of bandaging.

“I actually have no idea,” Alucard sighed. “Pure spite seems like an explanation. But he can be remarkably caring too. He used to be a champion for humanity, tasked with getting rid of the greatest evil of all.”

 _Well that sounds promising,_ Geralt thought sarcastically. As tempting as it was to say such things out loud, it was clear that Alucard had a complicated relationship with his father. Best not to poke that particular hornet’s nest. So instead he asked, “Used to?”

“As such things go, humanity wasn’t too grateful to him for his sacrifices. He did not take the betrayal well and turned his power against the very people he fought to save.”

That brought a snort and a frown from Geralt. “Humans never are,” he said sadly. “Witchers were created as protectors, and we’re shunned like lepers. Only welcome when a monster is around, and then lucky to get paid rather than stoned when it’s dead. I shouldn’t complain too much, though. Elves and dwarves have it worse. The older races are being run out.”

That thought actually pained him. The world held so much wonder in it, and he couldn’t understand why humans seemed intent on stamping it out.

“Elves? Dwarves?” Alucard repeated slowly. “I have never heard of such creatures outside fairy tales.”

Geralt jerked his head upward to stare at Alucard. That was alarming. Very alarming. Just where the hell was this place? “The Elder Races? The children of flower and vine, of axe and gold?”

Alucard shook his head.

Well. That wasn’t encouraging. Maybe this was a world where Ithlinne’s Prophecy had already come to pass. Was such travel even possible? It didn’t seem likely, but then again, Geralt had seen some very unlikely things in his lifetime.

“You should ask my Father, he travels to different realities when he thinks I’m not looking.”

That caused Geralt’s eyebrows to nearly hit his hairline. “Is that so? Impressive.”

Alucard shrugged, an oddly graceful move.

“He’s got a bit of a power up recently. I don’t think even he know his limits anymore.”

“I’m glad he has you here to remind him of the things that are truly important, then. Power is often distracting.” He ran a thumb over Alucard’s jaw and smiled at him. “You’re good and kind. I cannot help but think you are a good influence on him.”

“All done,” Alucard said quietly, stepping back and refusing to answer.

Geralt nodded, and turned to his gear. Every piece was exactly as he had left it, but it was also clean and polished to a shining finish. The areas that had been torn or hastily mended had disappeared, as if the leather and metal had healed itself whole again. He blinked hard, and ran a finger across his silver sword. The magic runes carved into its blade sung to him as they always did. Nothing seemed amiss to his other senses. 

He cast a worried glance to Alucard.

“My gear…”

“Just be glad it gave it back at all,” Alucard cut in, shrugging into his shirt. The wet hair left dark spots on the fine cotton. He sounded exasperated and long suffering. 

That actually caused Geralt to huff in laughter. “Maybe the lord of the land didn’t want me spending any more time naked than was already needed.” He grinned at Alucard and waggled his eyebrows. 

He expected some kind of reaction, but was still surprised by the burning blush that spread over Alucard’s face and travelled slowly down his neck and to his chest, dusting it pink.

“We should,” Alucard stopped, cleared his throat and tried again. “We should hurry.”

Geralt began to shimmy on his leather pants. He wasn’t _specifically_ going out of his way to make a show of it, but he knew how it looked. Still, he didn’t want to cause too much trouble, so he made quick work of putting on his other gear. Soon he was armed and armored; a bit on the damp side but over all ready to meet his host. 

He could feel Alucard’s eyes on him, the gaze burning as the vampire watched every move he made. It was a nice feeling. Geralt hoped he’d be able to explore that again later tonight.

Once he was fully prepared, he turned to see that Alucard had finished dressing as well. 

“If you’ll follow me,” Alucard said, gesturing at the door. 

Geralt ran a hand over his blades and belts, noting that every potion and dagger was in place. Then he nodded firmly. “Lead on.”


	2. Chapter 2

When Alucard pushed the door open, Geralt stopped, stunned. He made a point of keeping track of his surroundings, of remembering every turn, every corridor they took to get to the baths from the room they left Ciri in. He was absolutely sure there was a long corridor outside the baths, one with polished hematite floors and old armors standing guard under carved arches.

Now, though, Geralt was staring into an immense banquet hall. There was a massive wooden table with lushly upholstered chairs around it, the surface all but groaning under a feast fit for kings. The smell of food hit him soon after, both hot and cold meats, spices he both recognized and didn’t, and fruits and breads aplenty. There were tall, crystal jugs filled with wine so aromatic he could feel himself salivating from where he stood.

Alucard sighed and pushed the door open even more, inviting Geralt to pass through after him.

“Shouldn’t there be a corridor?” Geralt asked idly, entering the hall after Alucard. Their footsteps echoed in the empty, huge room. The only sound besides them came from the enormous fireplace. Following the theme, the pillars and mantle were in the shape of a massive wolf’s head, his jaws wide open and filled with a crackling fire. Green wood burned there, still so full of sap that sparked and popped, and filled the room with a heavy fresh scent.

“One would think.” Alucard’s voice was still long suffering. Geralt couldn’t imagine living in a castle that changed its goddamn layout every time you left a room.

“But how do you even find the place you want?”

“Liberal use of locating spells,” came the dry response.

A sharp laugh ripped from Geralt as he grinned and shook his head. “Where do you want me?” He didn’t try to make the statement into innuendo, but he wouldn’t be sorry if Alucard took it that way.

“Please.” Alucard motioned to the chair in the middle of the long table. “Be seated; eat. My Father is fond of dramatic entrances, I’m sure he’ll take his time.”

Geralt shook his head ruefully and sat down. Somehow it didn’t surprise him at all that the lord of the manor was a bit dramatic. He eyed the floor to ceiling tapestries, the massive fire place, and the elaborate feast in front of him.

Healing was a hungry business. He let his nose do the driving and lead him to the most appetizing bits of meat, a roast of some kind. The scent of it all was heavenly, and Geralt found himself swallowing over and over as his mouth watered. It was still hot, through magic or speed of service, he had no idea. He definitely wasn’t going to waste this offer, however, and cut himself a healthy portion of the roast.

Next, he found bread, so hot out of the oven it stung his fingers are he tore it into pieces, smelling amazingly comforting. In mere minutes, he managed to demolish the meat, all while dunking the bread in a spicy gravy, adding in bites of that in between the hot, peppered roast. 

While Geralt helped himself to the savory bits in front of him, Alucard broke himself off a piece of warm bread and spread herbed butter all across it. Then he poured them both glasses of deep red wine. The choice of drink brought a smirk to Geralt’s face. 

Of course vampires drink red wine.

“Have I kept you hungry?” Alucard asked, frowning as Geralt got himself another portion of meat, this one cold and in some kind of savory jelly filled with vegetables of different kind. He was hungry. Between what happened in his world, the travel, the magic and the healing he felt like he could eat a horse.

“My apologies for my manners. We came from a fight. One that we won, but still.” He shrugged. “It was...energetic. Healing always takes a fair amount out of me as well.”

“Enhanced healing?” Alucard raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Enhanced everything.” Geralt winked saucily.

“I noticed,” Alucard said with a slight blush. Gods, it was cute. That little touch of pink on those cheeks and lips made them absolutely biteable. 

“I see you found the food to your taste.” The low, raspy words came out of nowhere. Geralt jerked his head up, and scanned what he thought was an otherwise empty room, aside from him and Alucard.

Straight behind Alucard where the shadows were deepest, something moved. The shadow stretched and flickered, morphing and solidifying into the form of a man. Alucard's father, no doubt, and thus a vampire as well. Geralt blinked, and the figure gained color and definition. They spent the next long minute looking each other over. It seemed the vampire's gaze shared Geralt's unbridled curiosity. 

He wasn’t as tall as Alucard, nor was he as lithe. Instead he was wide shouldered and stocky; his body more compact but no less powerful. He had black hair, reaching his shoulders and his facial hair had been trimmed into a short, smart looking goatee. While he looked older than Alucard, he was nowhere near what Geralt would have expected of his father. Again, Geralt had to wonder if this man was a vampire when Alucard was conceived. That would certainly explain the lack of aging. 

His eyes were a banked red, the sharp gaze knowing and confident. Ancient, even. He looked at Geralt as saw no threat in him. It both troubled and surprised Geralt. He hadn't realized just how used he was to people treating him with caution, until he ended up here and was promptly dismissed as any kind of threat.

The show of power was unsettling as well. It disturbed him how easily the vampire entered the room without him noticing anything. Not sound, not smell, nothing. One moment they were just the two of them in the room, and in the next, Alucard’s father was speaking. It implied abilities that Geralt could only guess at; ones far beyond what he was used to dealing with. Perhaps comparable to that of a sorceress. 

He wore an elaborate red coat. Unlike Alucard’s, this one wasn’t heavily armored - instead it was trimmed with gold, highlighting the decorative cut of it. The shoulders were the only areas that were obviously reinforced, possibly with metal plating sewn into it; the red fabric layering showed off the beautiful gold trim. He wasn’t wearing any shirt or other armor under the coat. It hung open completely, showing off a powerful chest. A wide belt with a stylized monster head in the middle graced his midsection. Hair and horns spread out from the monster’s head in an elaborate metal creation that managed to cover everything from the belly down past the groin. It was the only truly defensive part of his ensemble. That and the red gauntlets that looked like dragonscale.

Geralt wondered at the dissonance, the strangeness of armoring his middle while leaving his chest wide open. It smacked of overconfidence. This vampire truly wasn’t worried about having his heart exposed. The belt was quite possibly just a decoration. Or maybe it had some other significance. Magical, perhaps.

Then there was the unnerving lack of weapons of any kind. There was no sword harness, no blades on the vampire at all, and yet he moved with confidence and the balanced walk of a consummate warrior. Geralt tried to peg him for a preferred weapon, but couldn't decide. The older vampire lacked the walk that would place him as a swordsman, and his body was not held in ways that would suggest a scabbard was a regular accessory. 

Something in the way he kept his shoulders down and head low said brawler to Geralt, but that, too, didn't fit right. Brawlers didn't feel comfortable in middle or long distance, but this man seemed perfectly at ease with how much space separated him from Geralt and how many weapons Geralt had on him. 

Geralt’s instincts screamed _magic user_. Most of the vampires he’d had the unfortunate luck to fight had relied on their teeth and claws to fight. That might explain the measured way that this vampire moved as well as the lack of weapons. However, there was the shadow trick, too, and the fact that this vampire controlled so many powerful minions, including a sentient castle. It made Geralt wonder just how many other spells he had at his disposal.

“Alucard,” the older vampire in greeting, walking towards the table. It bothered Geralt that he could barely hear the man even as he saw him with his own eyes.

“Geralt.” Alucard locked his eyes with Geralt and watched him with a kind of careful interest. Whatever he was really thinking was well masked behind his politely bland expression. “Meet my Father, Dracula.”

Dracula. Alucard and Dracula. 

Geralt blinked. Well, the old man certainly had some ego on him. He almost rolled his eyes, but stopped just in time. No sense in offending the local aristocracy right away, after all.

“A pleasure, Your Grace.” 

Geralt wasn’t sure what he should do. Get up? Bow? What the protocol was here? It varied from land to land, after all, and so far the word ‘king’ hadn’t been mentioned. Given the castle, Geralt had to assume Dracula was at least a Baron or a Duke. But beyond that, it was a mystery. Alucard didn't seem to prefer anything but polite manners, and hadn’t mentioned or demanded Geralt follow a specific protocol. He also hadn’t gotten up from the table. He simply sat there, still and focused on Geralt. Perhaps more telling, though, was the fact that Alucard hadn’t introduced his father with any particular title. They were playing as if they were all old friends. 

Well. Geralt could play that game. 

He straightened his spine and nodded in respect, but didn’t bother getting up. “This is a wonderful spread. You have my thanks.”

Dracula raised his hand as he passed behind Alucard and let his fingers brush just the very edges of some of Alucard’s quickly drying curls. It wasn’t obvious if the touch even made contact, so carefully was it placed. Alucard definitely did not display any indication he felt it, either. But there was just something about that touch, about the sensuality of it, that caught Geralt’s attention and kept it. There was a slightly knowing quality to Dracula’s gaze, and a smirk lingered on his lips.

Oh.

_Oh._

He looked at the way Alucard didn’t react to Dracula passing so close to him, cleary disturbing his space. Watched the way Dracula’s eyelids lowered as he watched his son.

Then it _clicked_.

They were not father and son, or at least not only that. They were _lovers_. The intimacy of how they moved near each other was telling. 

Geralt looked back and forth between Dracula and Alucard, as his mind assembled the story. Dracula’s eyes fixed only on Geralt and the smirk on his lips pulled a little wider. He wanted Geralt to know, wanted him to figure out what was it that Alucard wasn’t saying. 

It also meant that not only was Geralt trying to seduce his son in the bath, but Geralt almost ended up fucking his _lover_ , too.

He let that realization wash over him for a moment as he sat there and blinked. 

That.

That certainly was something.

Granted, not the weirdest thing that had ever happened to Geralt. Not even close. He honestly had to wonder if this whole situation was a side effect of their vampiric nature, the apparent remoteness of their lands, or just a traditional part of the local aristocracy. Sadly, that last one wouldn’t even have been that unusual. Nothing about the way Alucard had acted so far implied abuse to Geralt’s eyes, though Alucard certainly seemed to have a wary respect of his father’s power. So whatever was going on here appeared to at least be consensual. 

If it hadn’t been, Geralt would have started planning an escape for three instead of just two, and damn the risks. 

While he was sitting there woolgathering, Dracula had continued his lazy prowl and took his seat at the head of the table.

“Hmm, that explains you partaking in it with such… _hunger_.” Dracula didn’t quite hiss the words, but there was a certain dry insinuation to them. His eyes were locked on Alucard, even as the white haired vampire kept his eyes firmly on Geralt. There was definitely something going on here. Some drama that Geralt had stumbled upon and now had to blunder his way through.

 _Great_.

He kind of wished he’d had a chance to get his dick wet first, because the chances of this ending in a fight looked to be skyrocketing. Dracula didn’t seem angry, per say, which was a relief, but was definitely something going on.

Still, if Dracula wanted to play the innuendo game, Geralt was ready. 

“Well, I do appreciate something delicious to put in my mouth. I’m sure you do, too.” He grinned, wide and predatory, and toasted his wine glass at Alucard. “This spread you have here...mmmm, just irresistible. The fruit perfectly firm and ripe. The meat so juicy and tender. Expertly prepared, too. Just dripping with savory goodness. I’d love to just sit here, take my time, and suck the marrow right out of those bones. But where are my manners? I should have waited before starting. Let the lord of the land take the first bite. Please forgive me, Your Grace.” He inclined his head, giving a respectful nod to where Dracula was seated. Though he toasted Alucard, Geralt kept his eyes right on Dracula; not quite challenging, but not really submitting either. 

Dracula sat sprawled in his chair. Unlike Alucards proper posture, he slouched in the ornate chair, and leaned his elbow on the left armrest. There was a kind of insolence in his position that seemed to come from knowing his power over those assembled. Unlike most rulers of the advanced countries, perhaps Dracula didn’t feel the need to make a good impression. He seemed to almost delighting in provoking onlookers. In that aspect, he reminded Geralt of the warrior tribes of the North. 

Dracula’s gaze moved to Alucard again, his whole body shifting just that tiniest bit toward the pale haired vampire. There was an almost tangible weight to the attention he was paying his son.

“You have been offered the best… _dishes_ …of what the castle has to offer.” Again, there was the thread of something in his voice, something Geralt couldn’t quite place. Anger, he expected, but this was subtler than that.

Geralt watched as Alucard tensed, ever so subtly, his fingers twitching around the goblet of wine he had in his hand.

“Should I not have offered to greet such unexpected guests?” Alucard’s voice was low and…cautious to Geralt’s ear. It seemed that Geralt wasn’t the only one that wasn’t sure how this thing would go.

Dracula reached for a heavily gem encrusted goblet that shimmered into view on the table, the only indication food was even of interest to him, and raised it to his lips. It took a second for the air to bring the heavy scent of blood to Geralt’s nose. The red liquid inside was definitely not _wine_. Geralt tensed but Alucard didn't react, either used to his father's habits or genuinely not affected by blood.

“Your choice was…” Dracula took another long pull from the goblet, the rings on his fingers glittering with more than just precious stones. A shiver traveled up Geralt’s spine as the power raised in the air around them, before being banked down again. 

Geralt made sure his hands were free. Everything in him was screaming that the next words out of the master vampire’s mouth could be the end of the surprisingly pleasant evening. He readied the Quen sign in his mind, ready to cast in a heartbeat. 

“Unexpected,” Dracula settled on finally, and Geralt relaxed minutely at the fairly neutral wording.

Alucard turned to look at Dracula for the first time then. Watching him, Geralt understood just why he didn’t look before. There was so much in his eyes then, in his face. It was as if for that one moment, Dracula was the only person in the room, in the whole universe maybe. They stared at each other for a very long moment, his gold eyes glowing and locked with the red ones of his father. 

“Should I not have?” The words were soft, not quite unsure, but definitely a question.

Dracula did not answer immediately. He regarded Alucard for a long moment, ignoring Geralt’s presence completely.

“Your choices,” Dracula said after a very long moment, “have been your own for a very long time now.”

Geralt could see the slight frown between Alucard’s brows. As much as he had enjoyed their sensual flirting earlier, the last thing Geralt wanted to do was make trouble for his host. Either of them. 

But perhaps there was an alternate solution, one that might amuse them all. The whole situation was tricky, though, and his suggestion might blow up in his face. 

Maybe he could smooth this over for Alucard.

If Dracula was a typical noble, then he was probably a selfish bastard. He wanted all the pretty toys for himself, Alucard included. If Geralt distracted him, offered himself to the lord instead, it might get Alucard off the hook. Save him some unpleasantness later. 

Besides, it wasn’t like Dracula was without appeal. Something in his self confidence, in the way he not only radiated power but used it thoughtlessly, effortlessly was intriguing, more than a little exciting. Geralt let his eyes linger on the opening in his jacket.

He took a drink from his glass, making enough noise to bring attention to himself and break the mood, but not enough to be obnoxious. Eyes on his drink, he spoke casually. “Alucard has been a far more generous host than I deserve. I do notice that you---” he turned his eyes towards Dracula, “---you are here to greet me as well. I am both touched and honored by your presence.”

It was kind of amazing to see both Alucard and Dracula raise their eyebrows at him. Alucard’s reaction was definitely surprise, while Dracula’s held a strong thread of amusement.

Geralt smirked and raised an eyebrow back at them.

“It’s not just your hair that is silver, I notice.” Dracula’s attention was now firmly on Geralt, the now empty goblet hanging from his fingers.

Geralt thought that Dracula might be making a comment on his silver tongue, but he deliberately misunderstand. “My sword is silver, too,” he said with a wink. “One of them, anyways.”

Alucard choked and coughed into the goblet he was still holding up. When Geralt looked at him he was met with a disbelieving gaze of the younger vampire. He noticed Dracula flicking his eyes towards his flustered son before refocusing on Geralt.

“I took a look at the spell you set over the child,” Dracula commented, apropos of nothing. Geralt’s blood turned to ice, and he thought about the cup of blood that Dracula just drank. “Very clever bit of work.” 

Geralt’s fingers tightened briefly against his glass, but he quickly suppressed any reaction beyond that. Reaching out with his senses, he strained to feel evidence of his signs at work. It was only a minor relief to feel his spellwork on Ciri holding steady.

Good. That was good. But Geralt didn’t take threats to Ciri’s safety with great kindness. He let steel fill his spine and the relaxed tension of battle settle over him. He grinned widely at Dracula, an expression that was obviously just a baring of teeth. A warning mixed with a bit of challenge.

“I do try.”

“I find it interesting,” Dracula drawled, watching Geralt carefully. “That your access to magic, while severely limited, is definitely demonic in origin.” He tossed the empty goblet aside, but the gold cup never hit the stone floor, instead disappearing into the shadows.

“Demonic?” Geralt asked in surprise. 

Unlike the usual ways people called him a demon, there was something else in Dracula’s voice. Not contempt, curiosity rather.

“I can feel you,” Dracula’s eyes went half lidded, and his gaze felt light a heavy weight. The word were so quiet that they were barely a whisper in the dark room. “Not the same way I can feel my servants, you are not one of _mine_ , but the power is familiar in a way.” 

“Do you think all magic is of demonic origin?” Geralt asked carefully.

Dracula leaned forward and rested his elbow on the table. 

“No,” Dracula leaned forward and resting his elbow on the table. “The Belmont bloodline,” he indicated both himself and Alucard, “has always found it easy to use power, be it holy or elemental. After God had forsaken me, I learned that I could use dark power just as easily. Demons have a natural kind of magic thas a specific feel to it. Yet, when I looked at that trap of yours around that child, I could feel your connection. The place you draw your power from is the same place that I draw my servants from. It’s curious, for I have never seen a human being with that kind of alignment before.”

That made Geralt pause. He gently tapped a finger against his glass as he thought it through. 

“Witcher’s hold that our power is elemental in nature, drawn from the world around us,” he thought out loud. “But from what Alucard said earlier, it may be that my world is not yours. I mentioned things, common things, that he had no knowledge of.” He cast a small, rueful smile at Alucard. “And there were things mentioned of this world that sound wholly unfamiliar to me.”

“In all the places I have seen so far, there have been ever surprising ways humanity developed, creatures of fantasy roaming the lands in the open or worlds without humanity at all. In all those places there was one universal constant though.” Dracula leaned back in his chair, thoughtful. “Evil always comes from the same place, and so do demons.”

Dracula raised his arm, and it burst into flames, flames that took on a shape of a gauntlet that framed his arm from hand to elbow. Geralt could feel the corrosive power wafting off in waves from it.

“Hell is where the power of Chaos is the strongest. All I need to do is go down to Hell and from there I can go to any world that ever existed.” He flicked his hand and the flaming gauntlet evaporated into little flickers of fire that faded away in moments.

As incredible as that little display was, Geralt made it a point to be professionally unimpressed by those more powerful than he. It was with that in mind that he kept his reaction to a minimum and focused instead on the essence of what Dracula had said. 

“You know, I’ve been called Hellspawn before, but seldom has it been done with so much compelling evidence.” He let his eyes crinkle with amusement.

“Personally, I find demons more palatable than humans. At least one always knows where their loyalties lay.”

That actually made Geralt a bit melancholy. Humans had wrought so much suffering on so many. Not that non-humans were exempt from that, not at all. But for all the potential for good that humans held, it was a rare few that seemed to live up to it. He’d seen more than a few supposed ‘monsters’ that were far more honorable than the humans they fought.

“He does mean it,” Alucard said, reaching for another piece of bread. “He isn’t all that fond of humans anymore.”

It would be too easy to speak of all the ways humans had disappointed him. All the little betrayals and pointed cruelties. But so, too, would it be easy to speak of the small kindnesses and the flickers of hope Geralt still felt, that maybe people might one day live in peace together.

But those were old wounds that Geralt held tightly to his chest, festering though they were. Better to keep his response light.

He forced a smile onto his face, though in his heart he knew it was a poor effort. “Lucky for me that I haven’t been human in a long time, I suppose.”

Dracula watched him with eyes that were too sharp, too knowing for a long time. Instead of following Geralt’s easy tone he kept silent, truly gauging Geralt’s reaction.

“It was not my intention to dreg up painful memories,” Dracula said unexpectedly. It wasn’t only Geralt that was surprised, if the way Alucard’s head jerked to watch Dracula was any indication. “I have loved humanity with all my heart once, fought and bled for it as I had made myself a champion for it. I understand how betrayal of that kind of love hurts.”

“But you gave up on it.” Geralt spoke quietly, both touched and a little confused by Dracula’s kind words.

“I did. I tried my best to get my revenge on it, even.” Dracula shrugged in his chair, sinking a little bit lower. Strands of his black hair were caught on the decorative carvings of his chair. “Until I realized that Alucard has taken that mantle from me.” He transferred his gaze to Alucard. “It’s hard to hate something he loves so dearly.”

Geralt felt himself soften, and a small smile of joy tugged at his lips. Dracula’s love for Alucard was a tangible thing. More than ever, Geralt didn’t want to disrupt anything for them. Such things were precious, and more so for those who tended towards darkness. 

His satisfaction could wait for a more suitable partner. 

“My Lord---” Geralt paused, suddenly unsure of what to say. “I truly apologize for any inconvenience I have caused you. It was never my intention to disrupt your time here. As soon as my companion is able to travel, we will be out of your hair.”

Dracula didn’t outwardly react to Geralt’s declaration, except for a slight uplift of the corners of his eyes. “Eat,” he invited with a wide gesture towards the table full of delicacies. “Enjoy the company as feasts are meant to be shared, aren’t they?” 

Now it was Geralt’s turn to raise his eyebrows in surprise. Was Dracula implying what Geralt thought he was implying? The way Alucard was blushing and choking on his bread seemed to make it seem so. Still, there was no way Dracula was insinuating that he and Geralt should share Alucard. That was a little optimistically far fetched, even for this strange situation. 

So despite how very much his dick was on board with that suggestion, Geralt wondered if he should just take that statement at face value.

“You are most generous, Your Grace,” Geralt said softly. How to proceed? Maybe it would be best to ask for some...instruction. He took a moment to mull it over, eyes roving across the many dishes in front of him. In the end, he picked a lush piece of fruit. “I must admit, your table is much finer than that which I am accustomed to. There are many delicacies here that I have never before seen. This, for example.” He held up the fruit. “It looks delectable. Firm to the touch and no doubt heavenly sweet. But I’ve never encountered its like. Do I simply bite into it? Should I take my sharpest blade and cut it open? Is it prone to damage and thus needs to be handled with care?”

The smirk on Dracula’s face grew more pronounced and he shifted again, leaning closer to the table.

“It’s resistant, this one. Sometimes it refuses to yield no matter the blade you put to it, at other times it all but melts in your hand.”

This time Alucard did not choke, but that was mostly due to the fact he put away his food and drink. Instead he stared at Dracula, blush high on his cheeks. Geralt wondered if his ears were red too, what he would see if he pushed the white hair away.

“Father.” Alucard sounded as embarrassed as he looked, and more than a little reproachful.

Dracula put one of his fingers against his lower lip, the black nail sharply tipped and pressed there.

“Have I said an untruth?” Dracula’s voice, already raspy to begin with, dropped a few registers, and Alucard swallowed hard.

“You have said many things,” Alucard allowed, “not many of them making any sense.”

Dracula smiled at the rebuff and tilted his head towards Alucard, as if acknowledging a point well made.

“Do you have the courage to make sense of it then? Arrange the facts to your satisfaction?” He leaned back into his insolent sprawl again. 

“You are infuriating.” Alucard reached for the abandoned goblet of wine, drinking it down in one go.

“Thank you.” Dracula nodded again, as if accepting a compliment.

Geralt took a quick sip of his wine. Before setting the glass back down, he mumbled, “I don’t think you are helping.” He wasn’t sure if he should be interfering, but frankly the tension between those two was hard to stand. He wasn’t sure what exactly was going on there, but he sort of wondered if it was headed towards a quick roll in the hay. 

He tried not to picture it.

And failed.

“Aren’t I?” Dracula raised his eyebrows, bracing both his elbows on the armrests. It pulled the muscles of his chest tight, giving Geralt a good view of how powerfully built this man was. As much as he enjoyed watching, the sight certainly wasn’t doing Geralt any favors. Gods, both of these two were mouthwatering. He reigned himself in. Best to tread cautiously. 

Besides, it looked like Dracula was enjoying the game as much as Geralt generally did. 

He smothered a grin, and turned his gaze back to the fruit. Letting his eyelids go heavy, Geralt brought it to his mouth and inhaled deeply, just barely brushing his lips against its flesh. “Mmm. Worth the effort though, isn’t it? I’m not opposed to a little knife work, but I don’t mind using a delicate touch, either.”

Alucard covered his eyes with his hand. He made no sound, but his whole body expressed utter and complete mortification. 

“Why did it not occur to me that you can be as bad as him?” he asked rhetorically, not taking the hand away from his eyes. Those pretty, pale cheeks had turned bright red, every line of his body expressed abject embarrassment. Geralt had to wonder if Alucard was free to leave the room if it got to be too much. The thought worried at him for a moment.

“Speaking of blades,” Dracula turned to look at Geralt. “Yours look interesting. Do you fight with both at once?”

Geralt took the segue gratefully. He enjoyed teasing Alucard to no end, but didn’t want to actually push past the poor man’s limits. Besides, he did love his weapons, and this might be an excellent opportunity to see Dracula’s.

“Sometimes, yes. I’m skilled with one or both, and several styles either way. Easier to switch between them depending on what type of opponent I’m fighting.”

“Type of opponent?”

Geralt nodded. “Witchers are monster hunters, but that hardly means non-humans are the only thing that I fight. Plus, there’s a great deal of variance between types of creature. Some are more vulnerable to crushing blows, while others need stealth or dexterity to get around their defences. The more adaptable I can be, the better my chances of survival.”

“I can feel some kind of magic on them, are they magical weapons?” Dracula got up, loosening his shoulders as he rose, and then stretched out his right arm. A slight blue glow coalesced around his hand.

“Runes,” Geralt answered, watching the glow. He could smell the chill of that power, ice all but stinging his nose already. “The silver has been casted upon, improved as much as the native metal will allow. The other was forged from star metal. Both were engraved with signs of power. I added as many upgrades as I could, but ultimately they are just swords.”

“Silver is a unique metal, I have to agree. Swords are not my preferred weapons but the Void is remarkably resistant about taking any other shape.” 

The light focused into a tightly packed ball of light before rapidly extending into a heavy broadsword. Runes glowed down the whole length of it, and it lit up, cold and blue. The magic faded quickly, though, leaving behind only a chill that wafted off the blade. 

Geralt eyed Dracula’s weapon with interest. Surprisingly, he didn’t feel particularly alarmed when it was summoned. He couldn’t feel any threat in the action, and that was something he’d spent a great deal of time honing an instinct for. 

“Beautiful,” he said, admiration naked in his voice. 

“She is,” Dracula said softly before locking eyes with Geralt. “Want to have a go at me?”

Geralt practically leered at him, picking up the innuendo. Would he ever! Fighting was a dangerous proposition, though. But oh so tempting…

He stood up and shook himself, settling his weapons and armor around him like a wolf shaking its fur. “Any rules?”

“First blood.”

Geralt nodded. “And the stakes?” As fun as a friendly bout might be, it would be too easy to for this to be some kind of trap, no matter what his instincts on the matter said. He couldn’t risk Ciri’s life.

“He’s wounded,” Alucard chimed in unexpectedly. Some part of Geralt expected the other vampire to protest the impromptu brawl, but surprisingly it wasn’t protest he was hearing in Alucard's voice. Dracula cast a gauging look at Alucard.

“It’s merely a friendly spar. No one needs to be seriously hurt.”

That was a relief.

“Do you prefer I not use my silver sword?” Geralt asked politely. Vampires usually were vulnerable to it, and he’d rather not do terrible damage to his host, as long as they were keeping it a friendly match.

“You should keep every advantage you can get. Since you are wounded I will limit the Void to merely the sword, not using the freezing aura of it. Do you accept this handicap?”

Geralt mulled this over for a moment, then nodded. Given the castle and the casual displays of power already, he was fairly sure he was gonna get his ass handed to him. But, well, that certainly wouldn’t be a first. Besides, every little bit of practice always helped.

“It’s a sword fighting competition.” Alucard pushed away from the table and stood, settling himself in for a better view of the fighting space. “Neither of you are allowed to use magic that would extend beyond this room or go beyond that. _It means you can not use any of your blood magic, Father_.”

“I’ll refrain from using any of my combat magics as well, just to keep things even,” Geralt said with a smile. 

Dracula pursed his lips.

“No.”

“What?” Geralt blinked.

“You can not fight me as mortal. Let’s say, three spells for you.”

“Three types, or three total?” He could cast Aard endlessly, after all.

Dracula smirked at him, dangerous and pleased. “Sharp aren’t you,” he rumbled quietly. “Three types or Alucard will get testy at us.”

“I am not the one who tends to get ridiculously moody around here,” Alucard protested from the sidelines. Geralt fought back a laugh. These two were becoming more and more amusing.

“What does the winner get?” 

“If you win, I will give you a gift equal to my standing.” Dracula eyed Geralt’s reaction, though what he was looking for, Geralt wasn’t sure.

“Agreed. If you win, I’ll allow you to drink from me, so long as you do not seriously injure me with either the bite or the blood loss.” 

“Interesting offer.” Dracula nodded his head, and the smirk on his lips stretched a little wider. “I accept. You smell interesting enough I can’t wait to taste you.”

“So I’ve been told. It’s the alchemy, I think. I don’t taste like anything human.” Geralt grinned wickedly, drew his swords, and strolled away from the table. The banquet hall was certainly large enough to give them some space, and if Dracula wasn’t worried about anything getting destroyed, neither was Geralt. 

“Oh for…just remember which swords you are supposed to fight with.” Alucard made an effort to sound grumpy, but frankly, he failed horribly.

Dracula raised his hand, the lack of gloves covering them still a shock. Geralt couldn’t remember when he last saw a serious swordsman without at least gloves. Dracula made the universal come hither gesture at Geralt and he inclined his head, accepting the invitation.

Geralt wasn’t going to waste the headstart given to him. He shifted his weight and launched himself forward, casting Quen and then Aard in such quick succession that they were almost one thought. The golden shield barely flicked around him as the concussive wave of force hit Dracula square in the middle, pushing him backward but not managing to stun him. 

Geralt didn't expect the spell to work to its full power against somebody as powerful as Dracula, he merely needed a distraction long enough to get into position. He twisted his body, using his momentum to spin himself and the swords in a flashing arc aimed at Dracula’s most forward leg. 

The heavy broadsword came down fast enough to deflect the blows, but Geralt already planned for that. He hit the floor with his shoulder and rolled forward, into the enemy instead of away. As he rolled, he tucked his arms in and aimed at the now unguarded other leg. 

Dracula was fast though. He managed to flip himself sideways, avoiding the sting of Geralt’s blade at the last second. Before Dracula managed to launch an attack at his back, Geralt sprung to his feet, turned in place, and crossed his swords in front of him. 

He had intended be in position to watch for his opponents reaction.

Instead he barely managed to brace himself as Dracula’s sword turned into nothing but a blue blur, falling on him from all sides. The strength it must have taken to manage such a wide blade so easily was stunning. 

The first barrage of blows he had to take full on. There was no place to run as Dracula pressed forward, bent low and eyes glowing. He sliced at Geralt every which way, and the sparks from his parries were almost blinding. 

Geralt knew he couldn’t hope to outlast the vampire, so he freed his silver sword from where it was held, locked against the steel blade. Dracula was too close for him to try and drive a blow with the sword, so instead he switched grips on it. He forced himself to push at Dracula, at the sword he was barely holding away from his chest. In an effort to gain enough space to move, he drove his elbow into the sharp line of Dracula’s jaw with enough strength to numb his whole arm. 

He watched as the red eyes widened and then narrowed just as the blow hit, snapping Dracula’s head to the right. Dracula did not go down. Instead he went with the momentum of the blow, and twisted around to delivering a bone jarring kick to Geralt’s hip. That one attack sent Geralt skidding across the hall like a child’s toy. 

Geralt rolled with it. He planted his foot at the wall as he fetched up against it, and sprang to his feet. Again, he braced himself with his swords crossed in front of him, panting, waiting.

Dracula was looking at him differently now. His eyes narrowed and his focus was like a living thing, so heavy Geralt could swear he felt it on his skin.

“You are unexpectedly ruthless,” Dracula said consideringly, and made a slow flourish with his sword, loosening up his wrist.

“There are no prizes for second place in a battle to the death,” Geralt said with a wry laugh. “Years of such fighting has left its mark.”

“You went for my legs, not my chest. Why?” He was still making lazy flourishes with the sword, the blue light trailing gently behind the chilled blade.

“After the way you left it exposed, only an idiot would get caught in that trap.”

Dracula grinned at him, wide enough it showed his fangs. They were not as long or closely spaced as the ones Geralt had seen on other vampires, but just a little longer than the rest of Dracula’s teeth, and mostly invisible until he grinned wide. Somehow, it looked more primal. 

“Let’s dance then.” Dracula saluted him with the glowing sword and then moved, a blur of red and black. 

Geralt could feel his pupils rapidly expanding, stinging, as they tried to adjust to the unbelievable speed. He was ready for it, though, and when Dracula plowed into him like a boulder the Quen shield flared up and dispersed the damage. Geralt twisted, aiming the steel sword high as he slashed low with the silver one; he aimed right at Dracula’s knees again, following behind the movement of his body. 

But Geralt wasn’t quite fast enough. Dracula checked his forward momentum with admirable competency, and shifted to put the heavy broadsword between them, deflecting both blades. But that move left Dracula open. He no longer had anything to block the burst of fire that Geralt called, summoned into being by the Igni sign. 

Dracula fell back, away from the conflagration, and Geralt followed the movement. He launched himself in the air and moved forward with an overhead slash so fast he could feel his shoulder burning from how hard he pushed himself for speed. His own eyes widened as his sword bypassed the cold blade’s defence and cut right into the vampire, cutting his shoulder and chest open, sending a wide splash of blood out onto the floor. 

There was a thick, sticky resistance as flesh meet his blade, as well as the vibration of bone scraping against it. Geralt couldn't believe how badly he misjudged his actions. He was just opening his mouth, words stuck in his throat when the body under him burst into shadows, dissolving between one heartbeat and the next into nothing but black mist, smelling of old flames and embers.

“Shit!” Geralt backpedaled, worried for both himself as well as his host. _Way to fuck up a friendly competition,_ he thought harshly to himself.

“You really are viciously fast.” Dracula’s voice came from behind him, impressed and most notably not showing any signs of pain. “You are a consummate swordsman.”

When Geralt turned, he saw Dracula standing just behind him. His chest and shoulders as whole and perfect as when they started their fight, and the glowing broadsword was held loosely in his right hand. He watched Geralt with those impossibly attentive eyes of his, re-assessing him and very clearly liking what he saw.

A quick look at Geralt’s own blades showed dark black-red blood spilled across the silver edge, a substance that made the runes on the blade glow eerily. He took another step, settling himself again. The fight should be over, but he’d been badly surprised by the nobility before. “Thank you,” he said with a respectful nod. “Not that I think it matters in this case. Your abilities are most impressive.”

“Death is not something that can be applied to me anymore.” Dracula shrugged, and his eyes darkened. “Believe me, I have tried it myself already.”

“The win goes to Geralt,” Alucard announced from the sidelines, his voice low and thick like molasses.

“Yes.” Dracula nodded and dismissed his sword into freezing cold mist. “It most certainly does.”

Another slow shudder worked its way through Geralt’s body; come down from battle frenzy. It was then that he realized there was that trickling feeling at his side once more. His wound had ripped open in the fight. The blade that was still clean, he sheathed. The silver one, he pulled a rag and wiped Dracula’s blood off of the edge. He couldn’t afford to treat his weapons poorly; they’d been the only thing between him and death too many times. Later he could give them a proper cleaning, but a quick wipe was enough for now. As he finished up, he whispered a quick thanks to the spell work on it. Perhaps it was pointless, but Geralt was pleased with his swords nonetheless. 

With both of his blades safely in their sheaths, he looked up to see Dracula and Alucard both watching him with interest.

“And now it’s time to disrobe our guest witcher before he bleeds to death after his victory,” Dracula announced, watching the spreading splotch of blood on Geralt’s side.

Geralt huffed out a laugh. So that was how Dracula wanted to play things. Sounded fine to him. He did cast an apologetic look at Alucard. “I’m afraid I’ve already wrecked your good work.” He held one hand to his side, mostly in anticipation of how much it would hurt once the adrenaline from the fight wore off.

“Actually,” Dracula sounded intrigued. “Your demonic descent could be helpful here.”

“His body might not be able to stand it,” Alucard injected, sounding worried. “He might be changed, but he is still human.”

Dracula snorted.

“Barely,” he scoffed, “he managed to stay on his feet after parrying one of my blows. And his arms aren’t even broken.”

Now that was truly curious. Geralt had noticed how strong the attacks were, hard not to, but he hadn’t realized just quite how different they were from a normal human’s blows. Maybe he’d been fighting monsters too long.

“What are you talking about?” Geralt asked, feeling like he was missing an important element here. Considering they were talking about doing something to him, he was slightly concerned.

“My body,” Dracula started slowly. “It’s not like yours or Alucards. I do not live in my body, it lives _in me_. It’s an extension of my will, just like this castle. My power, in its most basic form, is hardwired into recreating a living vessel for me whenever it gets damaged.” Dracula gestured at his untouched chest. 

The sheer amount of power it took to do that boggled Geralt’s mind. Where the hell had Ciri taken them? It seemed he was lucky that Alucard thought to limit their duel, otherwise the outcome might have been very different. 

“If I breathe it into you, it might heal you.”

“Sounds dangerous,” Geralt said, though he couldn’t keep the hint of curiosity out of his voice. He’d swallowed power before, in various forms. He did so all the time when he augmented his own abilities. It might work.

“It most probably is,” Dracula admitted easily. “But it works on Alucard, because he is mine, and since every demonic creature is mine in a way now, it might work on you too.”

An idea occurred to him, and a slow, wicked smile stretched across his face. Alucard had said he refused to drink another’s blood, but clearly Dracula held no such compunctions. “Perhaps we should see the damage first.” 

Careful of his hurt side, Geralt started to unbuckle his armor. His fingers fumbled on the second strap as the strain of their duel started to make itself known. The pain in his side burned up his spine like fiery claws, and his wrists felt like he’d been punching granite. A small, pained sigh escaped him and he bit his lip, holding back a wince.

“Let me help,” Alucard was right beside him, approaching while Geralt was focused on taking stock of his body.

“Yeah, alright.” He let his hands drop and let Alucard’s nimble fingers start working on the buckles. Geralt’s shoulder slumped with gratitude. It was extremely nice to have someone else take care of him for a moment.

“This is not the place,” Dracula said, striding closer to them and putting one arm on each of their shoulders.

The moment his hands made contact with them, the world went goddamn insane. Everything washed away, as if a muddy river swallowed the colors and shapes. Geralt still felt rooted in space, uniquely unmoved while colors and shapes twisted and turned around them, reshaping itself into a different room.


	3. Chapter 3

The room solidified into something darker. It wasn’t as enormous as the banquet hall, but was still incredibly large. There was a huge, four poster bed to their right, covered with silks and the softest looking furs. The headboard was carved from some kind of dark wood, and depicted shapes Geralt couldn't identify at first. The four bed posts had thick, deep red drapes attached to them, and a heavy gold rope coiled decoratively around them, securing them to the poles. 

To his left, there was a fireplace large enough for a grown man stand in. Much like the banquet hall, the posts and mantle were molded in the shape of a snarling wolf’s head. Its vast maw held a fire burning merrily inside it, and gave off the scent of green pine. Every few moments, a loud crack or pop would echo in the room as the sap in the wood exploded. 

The floor was covered with thick, furry pelts, and the walls were hung with heavy tapestries. Tall doors on a far wall opened to a stone balcony, and chilled mountain air wafted in, eased by the heat of the fireplace. The mix of scents made the air smell amazing, both musky and fresh. 

The sudden reality shift made Geralt’s heart thunder in surprise, and he gripped Alucard tightly. He glanced around quickly, taking in the bedroom, and then settled his gaze on Dracula’s smirking face. “You are full of surprises.” 

“I don’t like teleports,” Dracula admitted with a tiny kind of shrug.

That made Geralt laugh. “Me either.”

Dracula looked strangely vindicated with Geralt’s answer and made a gesture at Alucard that even Geralt could read as, _See?_

“Rearranging reality around you is not much better,” Alucard murmured, not lifting his head from his work.

“At least I’m still in the same _place_ ,” Dracula grumbled back sullenly, clearly disappointed at not winning what Geralt supposed was an old argument.

After the surprise reality shift, it took a minute for Geralt to pry his fingers off of Alucard’s coat. It was tough for him to remind his body that everything was alright. He was in no danger. 

While he worked on that, Alucard continued to remove his upper armor and shirt. Sure enough, the wound had already completely soaked the fresh bandage that Alucard had applied earlier. Geralt picked at the edges and pulled the bloody garment off, noting how Dracula’s gaze followed the movement. They felt terribly close, right then. 

Geralt put a hand on the wound, feeling the new edge of ripped skin.

Not as bad as it could be. He’d certainly had worse. That wicked thought from earlier came rushing back, and he held up his bloody hand to Dracula. “Care for a taste? It’ll be different.”

Dracula smiled, taking his wrist and pulling the offered hand closer to his lips. He licked one long, wet strip through the bloody palm and then licked his lips, blood red eyes never leaving Geralt.

“Tastes remarkably familiar.” He licked again, his tongue sliding between Geralt’s fingers and wetly tracing the blood there. “Like darkness and power.” He licked again, tongue slipping to Geralt’s thumb and travelling up until it wrapped around the calluses. “Like danger and rage.” He dragged his tongue over the pad of Geralt’s thumb again. “I think you will do very well with my power.”

With every lick and taste, white hot pleasure trailed down Geralt’s hand and curled up in his stomach. It warred with the leftover pain and sent shivers running through him. He let his eyes flutter a bit and leaned back into Alucard. Oh yes, this was an excellent idea.

Privately, he had to agree with Dracula. There was a damn good chance that this power exchange was going to heal him exactly as they intended. But Geralt had something more entertaining in mind first. 

“Perhaps---” He swallowed heavily, struggling to get the words out, his eyes glued to where Dracula’s tongue dragged over his palm. “Perhaps it might be wise to clean the wound up first. Just in case.”

There was a huff of breath as Alucard softly snorted in amusement. “Shameless,” he murmured into Geralt’s hair. One hand dug into Geralt’s scalp, again tracing that scar that ran across the top of his head. He couldn't help but arch back into the touch.

“It would be a pity to waste the blood, after all.” Dracula grinned and trailed a single sharp nail down Geralt’s throat and towards his sternum. Then he pressed forward, indominable and larger than life, relentlessly pushing them all towards the massive bed. 

Alucard pulled Geralt back onto the plush coverings, settling him so he was nestled in between Alucard’s legs. His back was to Alucard’s stomach, and the naked skin against his own burned like fire. “Such an impressive warrior,” he whispered into Geralt’s ear. “Let us tend to you.” 

His words were accompanied by touch. As he spoke, his cool palm spread across Geralt’s belly. That simple touch dragged all of Geralt’s focus right to that point of contact.

That sounded _fantastic._ Geralt struggled to move for a moment, perhaps to take off his boots or simply get settled. But Alucard held him still, his arms like steel around Geralt’s shoulders and chest. He strained against the hold, just to feel the muscles tense, to feel the power of that grip sending liquid heat down his back. 

“Easy.” Alucard nuzzled into his neck, the tip of his nose stratingly cool. “Best not aggravate that wound.” His hand slid from Geralt’s stomach to his hip, curling around the bone there and holding firmly.

Whatever flippant remark Geralt was about to say completely died on his lips, because at that point Dracula prowled onto the bed in front of him. He moved like nothing alive should, every part of him sinuous and smooth and his body a definition of power and danger. The hungry grin hadn’t left his face at all, and Geralt was seriously congratulating himself on volunteering to be eaten. Dracula moved easily up into the space between Geralt’s parted legs. They weren’t even touching yet, but still Geralt could feel the other man’s body like electricity in the air, that dangerous focus fixed on him, stealing his breath away. 

“I seem to be overdressed,” Dracula said, his voice a low rumble. It made Geralt want to bear his own teeth and grin, because here was a man who would be a challenge to fuck. Alucard must have heard something in that voice, too, because he shuddered under Geralt’s body, and gripped him a little tighter. 

Power gathered around them again as Dracula’s clothing burst into a million fluttering pieces of shadow. Each little spec swirled around them all for a moment, and each place they touched Geralt’s skin left a little feather light spark of heat. He had to admire the showmanship even while he arched into the sensation. 

“Is everything you do so damn beautiful?” Geralt asked, desperate to get himself under control.

“Yes,” Alucard whimpered behind him, so quiet that he almost went unheard. 

That was when Geralt realized that there was an awful lot of skin contact going on behind him, too. Alucard’s clothing had vanished as well, and now Geralt could feel a hot, hard cock rubbing into his lower back. 

Geralt himself, however, was still confined to his pants and boots. He groaned in frustration, and gave Dracula an incredulous look.

“Patience,” Dracula said.

Fuck, Geralt did not want to wait. He drunk in the look of Dracula’s hard, pale body. That beautiful raven hair that had started to tickle at Geralt’s stomach. 

“He knows that his power is attractive,” Alucard murmured, nuzzling close to Geralt’s ear. His lips just barely brushed the skin there, the breath fanned over Geralt’s skin making little shivers travel down his neck. “He knows how to make himself look good.” Alucard’s voice was rapidly dropping registers. “You should have seen him on a battlefield. They called him Dracul, the Dragon. He would burst into a supernova of shadows and and fire, slamming into the battlefield like a hand of god itself, scattering hundreds in just that one go.” Alucard swallowed harshly and Geralt mirrored him, fascinated by the image Alucard was painting. “He would let the chaos and the blood magic burst from his body, wrapping him up and lifting him until he became the dragon, one of darkness and fire, and he would scream as entire contingents were decimated.” Alucard’s hand dug into Geralt’s hip, his admiration plain in his voice. “He does the same in bed.” There was a wet touch at Geralt’s ear, the tip of a tongue just barely tracing the shell of his ear. “He controls his body as he wants it, there’s no such thing as too much or too long for him. He can and _will_ fuck you until you think you can take no more, past the point you thought impossible, until all you can taste, all you can hear, all you can see is him and only him. Possessing your body as if it was his all along.”

Just the thought of it made Geralt briefly close his eyes while a heavy shudder ripped through him. He might not survive the night, but what a way to go.

Dracula settled himself down above Geralt, just an inch or two away from actually touching. This close he could smell the vampires unique scent, Dracula’s arousal making it all the stronger - the stinging clean scent of fresh ice and musky scent of burning embers. The hand on Geralt’s uninjured side wrapped around his hip, mirroring Alucard’s grip, and then slid underneath to wrap around Alucard’s cock behind him, causing Alucard to jerk and moan under them both. The other hand carefully opened the top button on Geralt’s pants; just enough to barely tease the root of his quickly plumping cock. From this angle, there was the perfect view of Dracula’s broad, powerful back, and smooth, shapely ass. 

Geralt had to wonder if the vampire lord had ever been fucked, or if, as his commanding presence seemed to imply, he always topped. He briefly fantasized about what noises he might be able to incite by licking up the tight hole there and giving him a good tongue fucking.

Tiny, careful little kitten licks worked their way up the lines of Geralt’s abs, each one bringing molten pleasure, deliberate and fearless, and then Geralt didn’t have the brain power to fantasize any more. Despite the soreness from the duel and the exhaustion of a long day wearing down on him, his cock was hard as could be. The tight confines of his pants trapped him in, causing a delicious ache in his groin. He tried to roll his hips and grind into the body above him, but between Dracula and Alucard’s grip, he was held fast. His frustration was exacerbated by the fact that he could feel Dracula lazily jerking off Alucard behind him. Small patches of hot wetness mingled with sweat, slowly slicking up his backside as Alucard’s cock began to leak. Alucard's breath sped up, wet and shuddering, and each little puff fanned against his neck and shoulder. The hard body he leaned on tensed and relaxed with every move, and Geralt could hear the tiny whimpering breaths that escaped Alucard. He found himself mirroring them, whimpering right along the younger vampire as if it was his own cock being expertly teased. 

It was fucking torture, is what it was. 

Dracula let go of Alucard’s cock, his hand spreading out against Geralt’s side, almost soothingly, dragging slowly down to his thigh and them back again to the naked skin of his side where it pressed him back into Alucard.

“Hold still.” Dracula’s low voice held equal measures of threat and promise, and Geralt whimpered again, his cock now fully hard because apparently being unsure of his survival was what did it for him. He cursed when he felt Dracula’s fangs pierce his skin, just above his hip. The fangs broke the skin and sunk in so very slowly. It wasn't a deep bite. Not even painful by Geralt's standards. But there was something impossibly hot in the way Dracula just took what he wanted. Just bit down and sucked, bringing the blood to the surface in more ways than one.

“Fuck,” he cursed, trying to arch into the bite, away from it, just _move_ but the vampires were holding him fast, keeping him stuck and immobile between them. 

The urge to fight was a well ingrained instinct; to lash out and attack what was biting him, no matter how pleasurable it might be. Soft fingers traced across his sides and down his chest as Alucard soothed him through it. Geralt’s breaths came in huge shuddering gasps as his body struggled between pain and pleasure. Every muscle strained to hold himself back, and still he couldn’t help but test the strength of the arms holding him.

Dracula pulled his fangs out just as slowly as he put them in, licking the sting away and making a low, rumbling sound in his chest that went right through Geralt.

“Yes,” Dracula murmured, one of his hands wrapping around Geralt’s thigh, high enough he could feel the edge of the thumb stroking against the swell of his cock still covered by layers of leather and cotton. “You will do very nicely.” Then his flattened tongue was at the long line of Geralt’s wound, licking shamelessly and without a shred of guilt at the blood there. Geralt expected it to hurt way more than it did. Instead he felt a pleasant cooling, numbing sensation under the wetness, as if somebody was pressing ice to his wound. He moaned, flailing to get his hand on Dracula’s hair.

“What,” he said on a shocked exhale, fingers scrabbling at the silky black hair.

“You saw how he molds power around his hands,” Alucard all but breathed the words into his ear. “He can do that to any part of his body.” He chuckled, low and wicked. “The Void can feel exceptionally nice in certain places.”

“Fuck, at least let me get naked, fucking _please_.” These two were gonna fucking kill him.

All he got in response was a low chuckle, though which one of the vampires was laughing, Geralt wasn’t sure. Dracula’s numbing tongue on his side was bliss, easing away the ache of his newly ripped skin. The more of his pain that slipped away, the more aroused he became. Bizarrely, the soothing numbness at his side also made it easier for him to relax back into Alucard’s arms. While Dracula was licking him, he wasn’t teasing the hell out of the rest of him. 

Geralt let his head fall back onto Alucard’s shoulder and squirmed in place. Little puffs of cold air flowed across his chest, breath from Dracula’s wet mouth, causing his chest to tighten up and his nipples to harden painfully. This apparently was too good an invitation to pass by, because soon a hand was on him, rolling that little bud around and gently pinching. When it turned icy cold for a moment, Geralt knew it was Dracula teasing him.

“Fuck,” Geralt said softly, groaning and thrashing anew. Still, Alucard held him down, his body a molten hot brand against Geralt’s back. The scent of sweat and blood hung heavy in the air, and right under that was the ever growing smell of sex. Fuck, Geralt was so hard he knew he had to be leaking just a little. Alucard’s precome had already slicked up his back, making it a smooth glide as the vampire rutted slowly up against him. The smell of it made his mouth water, made him want to touch and lick and kiss as well. 

He nosed into Alucard’s jaw and throat, seeking that spot where the veins were closest to the surface of his skin. Then he bit down, hard enough to leave teeth marks, but not quite hard enough to bruise. Alucard thrashed like he’d been electrocuted and moaned so prettily that Geralt had to bite down again, worrying the flesh between his teeth. The skin in his mouth tasted salty and sweet, with just a hint of fire and blood; he couldn't get enough. 

Alucard’s distraction allowed Geralt to sneak a hand up and run his fingers through all of that gorgeous hair. Another icy, wet rub to his chest made him moan and dig his fingers in, forcing Alucard’s neck closer.

He wasn’t able to keep his attention there long. Dracula must have sensed his distraction; he bit down into Geralt’s side, letting the blood flow anew. His fangs were cold and hard and oh so good, bringing back just a touch of pain mixed with pleasure to Geralt’s aching chest. Geralt had no idea how Dracula managed to keep the pain on the perfect edge between not enough and too much, but Geralt doubted he would ever meet someone as masterful at this as him. 

The fangs piercing his skin were slow, as if Dracula cherished the very act of piercing Geralt’s flesh. Like the act of biting was an act of fucking in itself. When he sucked, Geralt could tell there couldn't have been much blood; none of the places Dracula bit even had any serious veins. But he sucked at those bites as if he was willing to pull Geralt’s very soul out of them. Alucard, as if reading Geralt’s mind, slid his hand to Geralt’s belly and down, to rest it ever so lightly against Geralt’s still goddamned covered cock. Then he started squeezing, ever so gently _right in time_ with Dracula’s sucks on the bites.

Geralt thrashed, frustrated and amazed. He didn’t know what he wanted more of. To stay like this and let them tease him right into madness? Or just get them to do something, anything to break the unbearable tension? The bastards were working together, wordlessly and seamlessly to break Geralt’s mind, and he had no idea if he loved or hated them for it.

Dracula pulled his fangs out, as slowly and lovingly as he put them in, making Geralt feel every inch. He could feel how his flesh pulled at the fangs, how it followed their withdrawal, only to whimper when the tinglingly cold tongue swept over the new bite. How many there were, he lost track. His whole side pulsed pleasantly, tender and achy but more sensitive than he ever remembered it being. He could feel every draft of air, every hair standing up, even the heat radiating from the arm Dracula was bracing beside it.

The moment Dracula’s fangs left his body, so did Alucard’s hand withdraw from his cock, leaving him aching and straining against his leathers.

“Holy shit, you bastards,” Geralt gasped out, torn between almost laughing and nearly crying. He could feel Alucard grin against his cheek, and Dracula didn’t even bother stopping his careful exploration. “Sweetheart, I am gonna return this favor to you sometime tonight,” Geralt said in a low purr. Which person he was talking to, it hardly mattered. He would be happy to wreck them both, though he had the sinking, mostly pleasurable, feeling that they had similar plans to wreck him.

Dracula shook his head and his mane of dark, cool hair hit Geralt’s stomach, making his skin prickle up at the sensation. It made Geralt suck his belly in a little, his skin twitching like he was a nervous horse. Dracula laughed quietly.

“You like that?” Dracula asked. He shifted, pressing his scruff against Geralt’s hip and dragged it against the vulnerable skin there, awakening the skin and making Geralt hiss. “Would you like to wrap Alucard's hair around your cock and see how soft it feels against you?” Dracula kept dragging his beard over Geralt’s skin, making it itch and tingle, and making Geralt struggle to squirm again. Over and over he rubbed, on Geralt’s hip, on his belly, and on his side. The phantom sensation of those prickly hairs dragging across his sensitized skin was driving him ever so slowly mad.

The sound that Geralt made wasn’t human. “Fuck, yes,” he whimpered. “Please.” 

He pulled a little on his hand, still wrapped tightly in Alucard’s silken tresses. Gods, what would that even feel like? Like fucking brushed silk, and with those amazing lips so close by, too. He wasn’t sure what he wanted more, to feel all that beauty and smoothness against his cock, or to mark it up with his come.

“Healing first,” Alucard said firmly. “We can break you apart again afterwards.”

That actually did force a laugh out of Geralt. “If I die here, I fully expect this to be on my tombstone. ‘Fucked to death, died happy.’” 

“Hmm.” Dracula’s low hum vibrated right against the naked skin of Geralt’s belly. He was so close, so low, that Geralt could feel the very tips of his hair brushing the root of his cock, the only damn exposed thing on him. Again, Dracula forced down Geralt’s hips, keeping him still while he moved down and teased that small bit of exposed flesh with his teeth. Feeling something so sharp and deadly so close to his throbbing cock made Geralt shiver, though if it was from excitement or worry, he couldn’t tell.

“Father,” Alucard chided softly. His tone of voice brought Dracula’s gaze back up, lifting those deadly fangs away from their soft target. “You were not the one to win, yet you already got your prize.” Alucard tried to soothe Geralt by dragging his open palm over Geralt’s arm. Softly he ran his hand down the shoulder all the way to Geralt’s wrist, and then his fingers traced the tendons there. 

It did not soothe Geralt at all. He was going to burst into flames, he was sure. 

“That is true.” Dracula’s brow wrinkled. “You won, but you offered anyways.”

Alucard continued to pet Geralt down, until his chest didn’t shake quite so hard. “You, _oh_ ,” Geralt had to pause and take a breath right as a hand brushed over his nipple, sending little spikes of pleasure to his groin. He tightened his hand in Alucard’s hair; an anchor to keep him in the moment. “We both won, really. My side...it had to have ripped open sometime during the fight, making me bleed. I may have won the contest of swordsmanship, but you won first blood. It was only fair I offer you your prize.”

There was a long pause as Dracula thought that over, his fingers trailing little circles into Geralt’s skin all the while. “You were declared winner. I would not have disputed this.”

A smile eased across Geralt’s face as he stared Dracula right in the eyes. “I would have known. And I wouldn’t have bet something I wasn’t prepared to give.”

“You are an honorable man,” Dracula said quietly, almost wonderingly, never breaking the eye contact. “Yet one not conceited for it.” Dracula lifted himself on his arms so that he was raised up above Geralt. The muscles of his arms and chest flexed under the pale, spotless skin. They looked so inviting Geralt just wanted to lean up and bite all over that chest.

“No matter how unfaithful or cruel those around me are, I can still be true to myself.” The words didn’t sound right as he said them. How could he explain that his own sense of right was often times his only companion? Some nights it was a cold comfort, true, and it was a hard line to draw even on the best of days. One that often cost him dearly, too. In the end, though, it was what let him sleep with the least amount of nightmares.

“I find your brand of persuasion all the more formidable, for that,” Alucard whispered in his ear, and there was a hint of a smile in his voice. His hand explored Geralt’s arm again, tracing the shape of every muscle with cool fingertips. “It certainly worked on me.” He nuzzled Geralt again, just behind his ear, and a puff of warm breath fanned down over Geralt’s neck. “And him.”

“Ready?” Dracula rumbled, low in his chest. He was still resting right over Geralt, watching.

Dracula didn’t wait for a response though, just put his hand around Geralt’s jaw and moved him, tilting his head back and up. The move was so natural, so easy that Geralt didn't even have the time to protest the treatment before Dracula’s lips were on him. That touch was surprisingly soft against his lips, and Dracula’s goatee tickled gently against his skin. Geralt opened under the press of lips, eager for the kiss, only to then twitch as he felt the power pass from Dracula to him. 

It was just trickle at the beginning, controlled and contained. A test of sorts. This may have been a stupid idea, a risky idea, but Geralt wasn’t one to stop himself from doing something just because it was risky. He wrapped his hand around those powerful shoulders in front of him; his fingers dug into tight muscle and he _inhaled_.

He had no idea what to expect; it wasn’t anything he could have ever imagined. It was hunger, it was desire, it was overwhelming and unquenchable rage that felt like it would burn him from the inside out and leave nothing but a husk behind. That first little trickle was just a taste, just a sliver, and it was so overwhelming his heart tripped over itself, trying to beat its way right out of his chest. Geralt had no idea what it would feel like to have the whole of that power running through him. How painful it would be to taste all of it at once, much less how terrible it must feel to be made of it.

“Let it wash through you,” Alucard said softly into his ear. His hand snuck around Geralt’s chest and splayed over his madly beating heart. “Accept and let go,” he whispered as Geralt whimpered through his burning throat. “It’s not your madness, it’s not your grief. Just let it fill you and pass on.” 

Dracula shifted forward, pressing closer. His dark hair fell over them both, locking them in a tiny space of shadows and burning red eyes. The stream of power widened, pulsing thicker in Geralt’s mouth and filling even deeper. He tried to swallow against it, against the heavy presence of it sliding down his throat and into him, setting his body on fire.

“Don’t fight it,” Alucard whispered more urgently. “It’s better when you give in. It’s like being fucked, don’t think about the burn. Think of how good it feels, how _alive_.”

And Gods help him, but it was. Under the rage, under the madness there was so much _life_ , so much intent that it felt like his mortal form just wasn’t enough to hold onto it all. 

His whole body tingled. Shivers kept racing up and down his back, and his heart was pounding a mile a minute. His skin felt so oversensitive that even the touch of Dracula’s hair falling onto his face was _too much_. He couldn’t remember when the last time he breathed was. Geralt was so focused on how it felt to be filled with physical embodiment of Dracula’s life that he completely forgot his own body. 

Just when dark spots started to dance over his vision, Dracula pulled away from the almost kiss. Geralt sucked in a harsh breath, feeling an absurdly intense relief at the cool air feeling his lungs.

He was half blind with the power still filling him up to the brim. It coursed just under his skin, leaving him all but deaf with how loud his heart was beating in his chest. Despite that, Geralt still managed to get one hand around Dracula’s shoulder and the other into his hair. He pulled Dracula down, and stretched up to meet him for a proper damn kiss. It was way overdue, he figured. 

Just as Dracula had pushed his power into him, Geralt pushed all his desire into Dracula. He thrust his tongue in forcefully, heedless of the fangs that cut him. Geralt licked in like a starving man offered a feast, and his hand clenched tight in that silky hair, locking them together. Dracula didn’t hesitate to react. Far from acting surprised, Dracula surged back into the kiss, pressing Geralt ever harder into Alucard. He sucked and bit back at Geralt’s lips with brutal hunger, like an echo of some ruthless, animal instinct.

Arms clenched tightly around Geralt as Alucard whined in his ear, writhing under them. The sensation of it all was overwhelming that it took several long moments for Geralt to realize that he wasn’t in pain any more. Not anywhere. Everything was tingling and good, like every cell of his body had been electrified. Blood, sweat, and sex filled the air. Geralt breathed it in, gasping around the assault on his mouth. 

One of Dracula’s hands locked around Geralt’s thigh and pulled his leg up and out. Then he pushed himself in close enough that Geralt’s still clothed cock was now pressed against that unfairly hard body. With another frustrated growl, Geralt bucked up, striving for friction, for sensation that was still being muted by his clothes. Alucard’s arms tightened around his chest, holding him in place.

He snarled into Dracula’s mouth, finally spurred to action. If they wouldn’t let him move, he would move them. Geralt wrapped his arms around Dracula’s chest and hauled him up so he settled right above Geralt’s waist. Then Geralt reached down to grab a handful of that perfect ass. 

Dracula laughed right into the kiss, even as he fucked Geralt slowly with his tongue, licking the roof of Geralt’s mouth teasingly. He didn't seem phased by the somewhat precarious position. Instead he just shifted closer and thrust his hips, letting his thick, hard cock rub all over Geralt’s naked belly, messing him up even more.

Encouraged by Dracula’s response, Geralt arched happily into the slow grind. As much as he wanted to keep one hand in that beautiful raven hair, he had other plans. So far his advances hadn’t gotten him into too much trouble, so perhaps it was time to press his luck again. 

He released Dracula’s hair and pushed back on the vampire lord’s face, separating their kiss. A wide, wicked grin stretched across his face as he plunged his thumb into that hot, sharp mouth. 

“Bite.”

Dracula raised his eyebrow at him, but didn’t even pretend to hesitate. His fang pierced Geralt’s thumb, letting blood spill freely. He licked that tiny wound, staring down at Geralt, his body powerful and relaxed. Gods, that man was so confident, so easy in his body, and it was one of the hottest things Geralt ever saw.

“More. Make my hand wet with it. With you.” Geralt’s eyes fluttered for a moment, and his words were barely a harsh whisper.

Dracula kept his eyebrows raised, but he caught Geralt’s wrist and moved the hand towards his mouth. His fangs flashed as he sank them into the sensitive webbing between the palm and the thumb.

“What are you planning?” Alucard growled into Geralt’s ear, nipping at the lobe there while speaking.

A lazy, breathless laugh fell out of Geralt, and he used his hold on Dracula’s ass to grind them both harder together. Not that it did Geralt very much good; Dracula was still high on his waist, rubbing his dick right into the line of Geralt’s abs. Delightful, but not giving him friction where he really wanted it. 

“Wicked things,” Geralt replied. He started to pull his hand away from Dracula’s mouth, one eyebrow raised in question. It was asking permission, of sorts. Not for what he was about to do, but more for pulling away a meal from Dracula’s hungry mouth. Best to go slow on that.

“I swear, you have more balls than sense,” Alucard said tightly. His hips jerked harshly into Geralt’s back, and his cock painted a line of wetness over Geralt’s lower back.

Geralt laughed again. “Now that I have heard more than once.”

Alucard growled, reaching around Geralt and grasping his wrists with that bruising strength of his. Then he pulled up. 

Geralt didn't even think; he tensed automatically, shifting his weight and rolling to break the grip. He was just barely aware of Dracula bursting into shadows above him as he twisted like an eel.

The counter move was second nature, so ingrained that he almost apologized for it. Then Geralt saw the look on Alucard’s face. The parted wet lips, and the bright red blush that trailed all the way down his chest, and the wide shining eyes. Alucard bucked and Geralt tightened his thighs, riding him like a horse, sticking close and scrambling for a better hold. His fingers slid off the smooth skin a few times before he managed a good grip and forced one of those unfairly strong arms under his knee and held on to the second, muscles straining hard enough he could feel sweat bursting out on his skin. 

The longer they fought and the more mercilessly Geralt tried to immobilize Alucard, the harder the flush on Alucard’s lips became, and the wetter his lips looked, parted and panting sharp little breaths. When the pale vampire stopped fighting, his hair was a mess. Half of it was on his face, and the rest fanned around him. Loose strands clung to his sweaty forehead and wet lips, sneaking coyly inside.

“So pretty,” Geralt whispered, drinking in the gorgeous body under him. “You like this, don’t you? You like me holding you down and fighting you. Tell me you like it. You need it.”

It wasn’t just dirty talk, though saying filthy, sweet nothings was a favored past time of his. He needed to know that Alucard was more than just aroused. He had to be sure that his partner wanted what was happening. He’d take no one by force, not without consent. 

The flush on Alucard’s cheeks deepend, but his eyes were still mostly pupil and his lips parted as his chest heaved. Geralt shifted above him, carefully redistributing his weight. He could see Alucard’s cock, still completely hard, pressing against the leather of his pants.

“If he wanted out, you wouldn't be able to hold him,” Dracula again.

Geralt raised his head and saw that Dracula was sitting on the bed just in front of them, the messy strands of Alucard’s hair almost reaching Dracula’s thigh. He was using one arm to brace himself on the bed, the other resting on his upraised knee as he watched the tableau in front of him.

“Doesn’t hurt to check. Besides.” Geralt let his eyes wander slowly down Alucard’s body, visibly appreciating the feast before him. “I bet he begs beautifully.”

“He has some of my shapeshifting abilities.” Dracula moved his free hand so that he could carefully push the hair off Alucard’s face. “Come on son, show him your second favorite form.” He leaned in, eyes glowing and voice dropping into those low registers that sent a shiver down Geralt’s back. “Show him how much you liked being held down and forced.”

Alucard moved his gaze to Dracula, the pupils expanding even more if that was possible and swallowed again, his adam’s apple bobbing on the dry gulp, and then Geralt was falling through a wave of blue light. For a second he saw a glowing, ghostly outline of a wolf jump away from the bed, passing through him and through one of the bedposts before it coalesced into a true wolf shape. That is if there were wolves the size of a medium draft horse that is. The creature was immense, easily as big as the whole bed, whitish grey fur thick and bristling and the mouth so full of fangs longer than Geralt’s hand that he had to swallow. The long, muscular paws were ending in powerful claws that clicked on the stone floor as the wolf turned, his white tail sweeping the floor.

A smile of pure wonder stretched across Geralt’s face. How amazing, how lovely and wild Alucard was. There was this buzzing in his chest, the same feeling he got every time he stepped into a sacred grove or witnessed anything truly magical. He bit his lip and shook off the sentiment. Now was likely not the time. But still a grin spilled over. 

“No wolves allowed in the lift?” Geralt asked, barely holding in his glee. Alucard shook his large head and huffed out a breath, irritation on every line of his body. “Aww, come here, pretty wolf,” he cooed, and wiggled a finger in a come-hither motion. “I’ll make you feel better.”

The wolf made a gumpy little growl and jumped, turning transculescent mid leap. By the time he reached the bed, Geralt was catching a human shaped Alucard. He intended to roll them over again, but Dracula was faster, coalescing right out of thin air just behind Alucard, one powerful arm wrapped around his shoulders, muscles flexing, the other hand cinched tightly in that amazing silver hair, pulling back harshly and stalling Alucards momentum in one exciting show of strength. 

It didn't hurt that it left Alucard on arched up on his knees, his naked body exposed to Geralt in all it’s lithe beauty. His hands were clenched on Dracula’s forearm, obviously straining, fingers digging into the muscle even as his head was pulled back and to the side. His chest was still heaving and his knees were spread, fighting to counterbalance the position Dracula was forcing on him. Quick, shuddering exhales wracked his body, and his cock was wet and dark pink. It stood out proudly, almost desperately, from his body.

“How did I get so lucky,” Geralt said roughly, taking in the sight before him. Where to touch first? His mouth watered as he looked Alucard up and down. He smiled again, and brushed his thumb against Alucard’s open lips. He made sure it was the uninjured hand, keeping to his vow not to tempt Alucard with his blood. 

However, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t tempt Dracula with his blood. 

With featherlight touches, Geralt teased those pretty lips, traced around their wet edges, and then shoved two full fingers into his mouth, seeing how far he could take it. With the other hand, he tilted Alucard’s head to the side, and rubbed just along the smooth stretch of his throat, creating a pleasant trail of blood and spit right across the veins there.

Alucard’s eyes fluttered and rolled as he tried to take Geralt’s fingers, swallowing around them harshly.

Then Geralt trailed his wounded hand down to Alucard’s belly, delighting in the feel of it fluttering under his touch, flexing with every panted breath. For a vampire, Alucard seemed so very alive. He spread his hand open, clutching the flesh there as Alucard heaved under him.

“You like being filled up, don’t you,” Geralt asked. He kept his voice low and soft, and then licked around the fingers still in Alucard’s mouth. “Should we fill you up another way?” He pulled out his now wet fingers and pulled down on Alucard’s jaw, forcing his mouth wide open, showing off those pearly fangs. Alucard’s stomach clenched under his other hand, and a hot, needy whine came out of that lovely mouth. Those strange yet familiar golden eyes were nearly watering, tears caught up on the thick lashes there. 

From there, Geralt teased. He trailed gentle, cautious little touches all around Alucard’s body, avoiding his cock just as thoroughly as they’d avoided Geralt’s earlier. He brushed his wet fingers over Alucard’s nipples, and then breathed on those little buds, forcing them to harden and peak with the chilled air. The way Alucard shuddered under him was so delightful that Geralt did it a second time. And then a third.

“You don’t have to be afraid of causing a little pain,” Dracula invited, voice raspy and dark. “He has a certain fondness for that.”

“Is that so?” Oh the wealth of possibilities that offered. Geralt licked his lips and nearly gasped thinking about it.

“Do you hear him protesting?” Dracula chuckled, pulling at the hair he was holding, forcing Alucard to arch more, forcing him to fight for his position. The belly under Geralt’s hand tensed and flexed and a breathy little sound escaped Alucard’s open mouth.

Thus encouraged, Geralt reached down with his injured hand, smoothing his fingers down Alucard’s groin, but just barely skirting away from the hard cock there. He traced around the root for a moment, delighting in how it made Alucard writhe and squirm in an attempt to chase the sensation, his breathing all shuddery and wet. 

Then he went further down, cupping the heavy sack there, hot and so very fragile. He ran a hard finger right under it, heedless of his calluses, and pressed into that sensitive spot, causing Alucard to nearly jump out of his skin from the pressure. His cock was freely dripping now, and Geralt had to force himself not to lick it up. He’d get to that later.

“There we go.” Geralt grinned and pressed down hard again, reveling in how Alucard strained and moaned, his nose full of the bitter scent of his precome. “So obedient. Look at that pretty mouth, still open for me. Show me your teeth, pretty wolf. Let your tongue out and wait for a treat.”

Shivers ran through Alucard’s body, and he trembled as he let his tongue slip out of his mouth, waiting. That sight alone made Geralt shudder himself, his own achingly hard cock twitching in his pants. He’d nearly forgotten about how his own need burned through him. When faced with the option to do whatever he wanted, it was an easy choice to turn his attentions on the man in front of him. So Geralt grit his teeth into a feral smile, ignored the harsh rub of fabric and leather on his pulsing cock, the heat of his own skin, and leaned in to lick across Alucard’s chest. Just once, just enough to get a taste of salt and metal and fire on that pale skin. He scraped his human, blunt teeth there, leaving tiny pink welts behind, wanting to put as much of Alucard’s flesh into his mouth as he could, wanting to have him, own him, shatter him.

Then he reached down to hold Alucard’s balls in his hand, and squeezed. Softly at first, gauging the vampire’s reaction, but soon clutching harder and harder. Alucard arched up under him, straining at the relentless hold Dracula had on him, his eyes watering and small, helpless little noises escaped from his open mouth. His cock didn’t get even a little bit softer though, merely slicking up more, filling the air with the scent of his desire.

Geralt dug his nails in, feeling that fragile flesh compress under his grip, and wringing a wail out of Alucard’s chest. He didn’t hold that tightness for long. After only a second or two, he relaxed his hand, gently cradling the swelling flesh in his hand, soothing it with soft, circular rubbing. The heat from Alucard’s skin was nearly enough to burn, and sweat dripped down his brow.

“Oh what a good wolf,” Geralt murmured. He curled his free hand around Alucard’s jaw, and licked into his mouth, wetting it again from after all of the dry panting. In between kisses, he whispered praise and licked up tears. Dracula’s arm was a steel band around Alucard’s shoulders, still holding him in place with the patience of bedrock. 

Dracula caught Geralt’s eyes and let go of Alucard’s hair, and the younger vampire let his head fall forward slightly, the messy hair obscuring his face completely. Dracula reached for it again, this time gently tilting it back so that it was resting on his shoulder and pushed the mass of hair off Alucards face gently. The careful movements were a surprisingly exciting contrast to the arm still wrapped around Alucard’s shoulders, keeping him still by sheer force. He repeated the gentle sweeps of his fingers over Alucard’s face until he had all the little curls unstuck from Alucard’s skin, his lips, and tucked behind his ear. 

Then he moved the hair away from Alucards neck, shifting that luscious mass to the left shoulder, all the while staring straight at Geralt. Alucard exhaled a shuddering breath as Dracula’s eyes started glowing that little bit harder and he opened his mouth wide. He bit deep into Alucard's neck, not the gentle little bites he peppered over Geralt’s chest and hand. This was greedy, deep, going straight for the vein type of bite. Alucard made an indescribable sound, deep and wanton and his body arched before relaxing, eyes going half lidded. His mouth dropped open, senseless as his cock leaked a copious amount of precome.

A heavy shudder wracked through Geralt’s body just as it did with Alucard’s. As much as he wanted to just close his eyes and groan, Geralt forced himself to watch those fangs pierce Alucard’s neck, to note every drip and trickle of blood and sweat. He wanted to lick it up, but wasn’t sure if he should. Hunger ripped through him, powerful and electric, and that feral, wicked smile stretched across his face again. 

Carefully, and with the least amount of pressure he could, Geralt took hold of Alucard’s slicked up cock, the skin so smooth and velvety soft in his calloused hand; he marveled at how hot it was to touch. In a sweet bit of revenge, he squeezed, right in time with Dracula’s swallows. Years of swordwork had left Geralt’s hands rough, and more importantly, he knew just where each heavy callus was. Like the one right on the base of his thumb, which he swiped across that sensitive, leaking cockhead. The rough skin caught on the slit there, and the throaty scream that erupted from that movement only made Geralt grin wider. 

Just when he thought that it might be too much, that Alucard might finally get release, Geralt removed his hand and licked up all that bitter, hot precome off each finger. He made a show of it, curling his tongue and lapping at his own hand. Alucard’s eyes had already gone hazy with pleasure, but it was Dracula that Geralt was staring at. The two locked gazes, both sucking at their different treats. 

Dracula pulled his fangs out, some more blood spilling over the pale throat and he licked it up lazily.

“Do you know what I love most about biting him?” Dracula sked, voice low and wrecked, so hungry it made Geralt’s own belly clench and his cock pulse.

It took a couple tries for Geralt to actually form a word. “What’s that?” he asked.

Dracula smirked, his free hand coming up to wrap around Alucard’s jaw and pull his head so that their lips were mostly aligned. “I can heal him and do it over and over again.” Dracula pressed his lips to Alucard’s and Geralt could feel the power he breathed into the younger vampire, could even see the tiny tendrils of it escaping their imperfectly joined lips and sluicing down the long neck and heaving chest. Before his eyes the ragged bite healed up to not even a scar. The skin was smooth and perfect when Dracula stopped breathing power into the steadily whimpering Alucard and started kissing him. Geralt could just make out the little glimpses of his tongue, wet and pink, as he explored Alucard’s mouth.

Just as abruptly as Dracula started, he pulled back from the kiss, and nudged Alucards head to expose his neck. He bit down again, not even pretending he wasn’t doing it to torture his son with pleasure. Alucard arched, scrabbling hard at Dracula’s arm still holding him tight to his chest and his cock jerked against his belly. He looked desperate, out of his mind with want and oh so beautiful. Geralt wanted to _eat_ him.

Geralt slid his hands down Alucard’s sides, letting his calluses catch the delicate skin there. He noted how purple and wet Alucard’s cock looked, angry from being so mercilessly teased. Well, maybe it was time for a little more. Geralt hooked his hands under Alucard’s knees and pulled up, lifting his whole lower body up off the bed, and settled his legs over Geralt’s shoulders. There was a little bit of shuffling as Geralt maneuvered them into just the right place, and to his pleasure, Alucard simply allowed it to happen, his limbs loose and easy in Geralt’s grasp, the muscles of his thighs flexing randomly against the bones of Geralt’s shoulders. 

Now Geralt had the perfect view of those hot, swollen balls and the hole nestled under them, pink and pretty. He could hear the slow, wet pulls of Dracula drinking, the way Alucard whined at each suck. He felt powerful, the rush of taking away all of Alucard’s leverage ramping up his own hunger. Geralt felt like he could do anything, everything right then. 

He buried his face into the hot skin of Alucard’s thigh, nearly smothering himself on that tender flesh, and carefully licking up around his balls. The taste of sweat and precome filled his nose and made his mouth water, and he sucked hard into the sensitive skin. Alucard thrashed and writhed around him, but there was no leverage, he was completely suspended between Geralt and Dracula, and the best he could do was slowly clench and unclench his muscles as Geralt mouthed over his swollen balls. His tongue laved over where nail marks should have been, mourning their loss.

He waited for a moment, seeking to time himself with Dracula’s feeding, and at the right moment he bit down, directly under the heavy sack, and worried at the sensitive nerves there. It tasted so sweet, and the smell of spit covered skin filled up Geralt’s head. Alucard’s legs tensed and closed hard around Geralt’s head, body just a long line of unfulfilled desire and a wrecked shout leaving his throat. Geralt rocked his own hips into nothing, unable to stop himself from twitching at the pleasure he was giving with his mouth.

“Hush,” Dracula’s voice rumbled right through the both of them, low and smooth like the darkness he embodied. “Don’t be like that.” There was a dark edge to the outwardly gentle words. “Now,” another wet sound of a bite, “open up for our guest.”

Alucard cried out, but his legs relaxed around Geralt, letting him closer. Deeper. Letting him do whatever he pleased and Geralt had to close his eyes for a moment because it was too much, too hot. He pressed his hand to his own cock, still goddamn bound by all the cotton and leather and inhaled. That sharp breath only succeeded in giving him a noseful of Alucard’s musk, the coppery scent of blood, and tingling power that Dracula shared so freely.

He needed something, anything to distract himself from the ache between his own legs, so he turned his head and bit down on the nearest flesh, marking up Alucards thigh with a deep red bite. The vampire’s breath hitched and he whined louder. He pried his hand off of Dracula’s forearm, his fingers bloody from where he’d dug into the flesh there. Then he flailed, eventually grabbing hold of Geralt’s head. His fingers clutched there, pulling at Geralt’s hair. He might have gone a little mad with it all. The scent of sex and arousal was so thick in the air that it was all but choking him, and Alucard’s sounds drove the last of reasonable thought right out of his head. He opened his mouth again and bit down hard, bruising Alucard just above the previous bite. 

The fingers in his hair spasmed but held on just as tightly, _pulling him closer_. He abandoned all caution and started biting a hard trail up that slim, long thigh. Mouthful after mouthful, until he reached the hard tendon that joined groin to thigh. He nuzzled into the sensitive balls there and then stuck his tongue into Alucard, fucking him with it hard and fast, as deep as possible, as firmly as he could. Alucard was so slick and wet, opening up so perfectly for him. In addition to the taste of skin and sweat, there was something else, too. A hint of oil and sweetness, with a touch of fire perhaps. 

That’s when Geralt realized that there was a little bit of slick already inside of that hot, needy, little hole; either from something that had been interrupted when he and Ciri had arrived or something that had happened earlier that day. The very thought of it drove Geralt wild, and he reached his tongue in as far as he could, eager to get a taste of their earlier pleasure. Alucard was thrashing between them, and the whine in his voice rising higher and higher. Geralt pushed two of his fingers into that soft, spit slicked hole, pressing up, hoping to get that spot that drove men wild. 

The legs around him tightened again, and the whole body he was holding up arched up into one long bow of beautifully tensed muscles as Alucard came. His cock spurt jet after jet of come over his own belly and chest. 

Geralt couldn’t stand not tasting it, not getting his mouth on Alucard. He surged up, all but forcing Alucard to bend in half as he got his mouth around just the tip of that untouched cock. Then he sucked as hard as he could, fucking into Alucard with the two fingers he had in him, enjoying the feeling of how the muscles there tensed and clenched around them. The slick, smooth walls contracted rhythmically as Alucard screamed, thrashing between them. Geralt caught the last of his orgasm, swallowing his come and sucking at the tip of his softening cock until, finally, he felt Alucard trying to push him away, shivering like a worn out racehorse.

Praise fell out of his mouth in a babble as Geralt stroked all those hard, trembling muscles. “Fuck, you’re perfect. You taste so damn good, little wolf. Beautiful, pretty, little wolf. I loved sinking my teeth right into you, and you took it so well. You were so good for us, all shaking and hot in my mouth.” Using all of his strength to make the movement slow and smooth, he eased Alucard back down on to the bed. Dracula followed suit, allowing Alucard’s shoulders and head to rest on the soft pillows and furs.

Gods, Alucard looked just fucking wrecked. Blood, spit, and come trailed all down his chest, and the scent of sex was heavy in the air. As soon as he touched the soft bedspreads, he moaned and twitched, probably oversensitive from everything he’d been through. Geralt ran a hand down his side, picking up a trail of fluids and licking them off his hand; it tasted like sex and power and fire, and his mouth lit up with the flavor. 

“So fucking pretty. Oh, little wolf, you did so well,” Geralt crooned. “I can’t wait to make you come again.” The words must have sunk in, because Alucard shuddered hard and squirmed under him in the most delicious way, knees pulling up and brushing Geralt’s sides.

The hand closing around the nape of Geralt’s neck was a surprise. Geralt looked up at Dracula, who leaning over Alucard to pull Geralt closer, and then fit their lips together in a feral kiss. Dracula licked deep into Geralt’s mouth, chasing the remnants of Alucards taste, licking it right out of Geralt. Geralt was sure to give as good as he got. He sucked and licked back, feeling an unexpected thrill at the possessiveness of that that powerful hand around his neck. Dracula could snap his spine in half; he could strangle him with minimal effort. The awareness of the danger of that grip only made Geralt’s cock harder, and made him jerk and _ache_.

“Would you like to fuck Alucard into hardness again?” Dracula asked with that velvety low voice.

Geralt couldn’t even answer for a moment, as pleasure and want crawled up his spine at the mere thought of it. He tilted his head and arched his neck into the hand on him, and his chest heaved with how hard he was breathing. After a whole damn night of teasing, of getting hard and then not and then hard again, of driving himself fucking insane with the two gloriously powerful people in front of him, it was all he could do to not come in his pants right there. 

“Yes. Fuck, _please_.” The words came out as a pained groan. 

Alucard made the tiniest of sounds. His eyes were still mostly pupil and his hair was again all over his face; those messy curls draped over his chest and all around him in wild strands. Geralt looked down at him, at the loose sprawl of his body, and at the way his hands held loosely onto the covers. Their eyes locked and Alucard shifted his legs again. He pulled his knees up a little, and let his legs fall open. It was the clearest goddamn invitation Geralt had ever seen.

He took a deep breath, and settled himself, fingers playing over Alucard’s knees and down his thighs. It was a tease for them both, but it also gave Geralt a moment to get himself under control. Dracula was right there, his lips just a breath away from Geralt’s, wet and ready. His fangs peaked out and he dragged his tongue across them, knowing that Geralt was watching.

“Help me with my pants?” Geralt asked, unable to look away from that hot mouth. He knew his clothes had to be soaked now with his own sweat, blood, and precome. They stuck and clung to him, squeezing his pulsing cock tightly, and bunching up uncomfortably. Geralt had ignored the confining sensation up until now, when he could, but the prospect of finally shedding his clothes and getting his cock some attention was too much to pass up.

Dracula rumbled out a small laugh and dispersed into shadows. His body became a black mist that circled the place he occupied for a few long seconds, before separating into long tendrils. They lazily reached through the air and circled onto each other just behind where Geralt knelt. Out of the black mist Dracula’s body emerged, slotting itself against Geralt’s back from chest to hip. Again, Geralt was struck by how Dracula wasn’t quite as tall as he was. He was stockier, and Geralt could feel the planes of muscle pressing against his own body and shuddered.

“Useful, that,” Geralt rasped out. Dracula laughed again, and raised one of his hands to run it very gently over Geralt’s side.

“It is,” Dracula agreed, sliding that same hand down between Geralt’s legs and cuping him firmly there. He didn't stroke, he just held, applying firm pressure. “I like it.”

That firm, strong grip after so long of nothing sent pleasure pulsing through Geralt’s body. He shifted his hips forward, unable to stop himself, but already knew damn well Dracula wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of friction. Letting his head fall back onto Dracula’s shoulder, Geralt looked up at him from under heavy eyelids. 

“Should I call you daddy, too?” he asked, half joking, half serious.

“Alucard was right,” Dracula murmured reaching, finally, for the lacings of Geralt’s pants. “You do have more courage than sense.” 

Geralt’s lips quirked into a small grin. “Fortune favors the bold.”

Instead of unlacing the clothes, Geralt watched as Dracula’s nails elongated, narrowing to wickedly sharp points. Then he could feel the tips of them pressing into the leather, pinpricks of it going through the thick hide and making him shiver as Dracula dragged his nails through the leather on his hips. He watched with bated breath as the thick hide parted like water. It fell apart under the touch of those claws, and left the faintest of marks on his skin.

“Oh fuck, yes,” Geralt said with a moan, and not just because his cock was finally free. “If I get hard the next time I fight something with claws, I’m blaming you.”

Dracula rumbled out another laugh. He shifted to rub his goatee back and forth over Geralt’s neck, making Geralt twitch and shudder. Each rough pass only sensitized the skin there more.

“I haven’t even started with you.” Dracula pressed his hips against Geralt’s ass, his cock sliding between the cheeks, hard and thick. Still, he was nowhere close to how desperate Alucard or Geralt were. “There’s much I yet want to do to you.” He let his clawed fingers press lower, over the tensed muscles of Geralt’s thighs. He cupped his hand there, holding the shredded remnants of leather and Geralt’s undergarments to the freshly exposed skin.

“Promises, promises.” 

Gods, the thought of it was amazing. Terrible. Fantastic. They still had so much time, and Geralt wanted to do everything. Wanted to feel it all, and in turn make his lovers experience everything, too. Seldom did he find partners that were a match for his stamina. 

“I like your legs,” Dracula rumbled. “I like my lovers tall and leggy.” Pinprick sharp claws trailed up Geralt’s thighs, not enough to cut, but definitely enough to leave a maelstrom of sensation in their wake. 

Geralt looked down at Alucard. Only one golden eye was visible from under the messy hair. He looked over the long chest, still flushed and messed up with blood and come, the still working belly, and the softening cock nestled so defenseless against one long thigh. Yeah, he could see that Dracula had a type all right.

“There are so many things I like about you,” Geralt said. “You’re beautiful. Powerful.” He closed his eyes and took in the sensation of Alucard’s knees under his hands and Dracula’s skin on his back and hard, hot cock resting along his ass. “But I think I like your passion the best. You love so fiercely. It’s...” He shook his head, unable to put into words how much he was moved by that love. Perhaps he was a touch envious, but mostly it awakened every protective instinct he had. It made him want to be fierce in return, the guardian wolf that many thought him to be. 

“I did not expect to like you at all.” Dracula's words were quiet. As he spoke he raised his hand, pushing Geralt’s head forward until it hung loosely. He set his teeth against Geralt’s neck briefly, not biting, just resting his fangs there on both sides of the spine. 

A helpless little moan escaped from Geralt’s throat at the touch of those teeth on his skin. He shivered hard, every part of his body tingling and alive, waiting for what those teeth might do to him.

“You have turned out to be a revelation.” Dracula shifted, dragging his teeth higher up Geralt’s neck, before letting go. Then he put both his hands on Geralt’s hips, and pulled him back in slow, undulating movements. It made Geralt rub himself against the hard cock still pressed against his backside. He could feel Dracula’s cockhead slip between his cheeks and rub at his hole from time to time.

Every little brush against that secret part of him made Geralt twitch and moan. His legs trembled with the effort to stay upright, and his cock was practically dripping precome. He was so hot all over, shaking and needy. Each breath across his neck was a hint of something magical about to happen, and Geralt was nearly out of his mind with wanting it. The sharp points of Dracula’s fangs teased him; they sent little sparks through his body, and kept his mouth dry with desire.

“Please,” he begged softly. 

“Don’t look now,” Dracula murmured right into his ear and reached back. Geralt looked, of course he looked. He couldn’t have stopped himself if he tried after a warning like that.

Dracula reached out to the side where the shadows had suddenly became darker, thicker, almost tangible even. Out of those shadows a pair of demonic, clawed hands raised up an offering a bowl; it was presented almost in supplication, like an offering for a god. Geralt’s pendant shivered against his chest and his skin prickled, but Dracula only dipped his hand into the bowl and then withdrew. As soon as he was done with it, the demonic presence withdrew also. It disappeared into shadows, and then those shadows in turn quickly lost their solid look and soon disappeared completely.

“I don’t think you will need more than this to get into him, hmm?” Dracula’s voice was a low rumble as he wrapped his oil slick hand around Geralt and stroked. He ran his hand from root to tip in one slick glide that had Geralt’s eyes rolling back into his head and left him moaning like a dockside whore.

Geralt swallowed heavily, once, then twice, trying to get his scrambled brain back on track. “If not, I can always use my tongue again. I’d happily drink from that cup all night.”

Alucard’s hands on his thighs were a surprise, and he looked down at the younger vampire.

“You talk too much.” Alucard’s voice was still wrecked from before. It was raspy in ways that sent little shivers of excitement down Geralt’s back and right to his cock.

“Then let's find something better to do with my mouth,” he growled back. Then he leaned forward, crawling over Alucard’s supine body until they were sharing the same breath. A little curl of pleasure went through him as he felt Dracula’s hands roam down his back and settled on his ass, touching and kneading his cheeks.

Geralt slotted his mouth against Alucard’s, licking around his lips. They were already swollen and just a little cracked, so Geralt soothed them with his tongue. Alucard met him half way, playfully and sensually letting their tongues entwine, meet, and disengage. He wasn't the animal his father was, all possessive bites and unmitigated possession.

Alucard’s thighs parted for Geralt as sweetly as his lips did. The soft skin of his inner thighs slid over Geralt’s sides as Geralt reached between them to press his fingers to that hole he licked so well not so long ago. Alucard was soft and wet there still, and Geralt’s fingers sunk in easily into the silky smooth passage. He swallowed the gasp Alucard made, right into their kiss, and pulled his fingers back. He couldn't wait. Geralt had to get inside him. Now. The need for it was burning him up inside.

He twitched, surprised when he felt another hand there, between his and Alucards body. It wrapped around his cock, causing Geralt to shudder and snap his hips forward. Then it was him moaning when he realized that Dracula was positioning him, pressing the head of his cock against that silky furl of muscle. He thrust, feeling himself sink into the hot body under him, feeling his cock breach that tight ring of muscle, and feeling the slide of Dracula’s fingers still there where he and Alucard were joined.

There was no way he could be slow or careful, not with how hard he was, and how long he waited for any kind of relief. He bucked roughly into Alucard. The younger vampire’s voice hitched, gasping right into Geralt’s mouth. He could feel Alucard’s hands sliding up his arms and closing over Geralt’s shoulder and neck, pulling him closer, lower, _deeper_.

“Fuck.” Geralt braced his elbow against the bed and used the other to grip Alucard’s hip. He held on bruisingly hard, keeping Alucard still as he let his lust go. Then he let himself fuck into the unbearably hot body below, driving little gasps out of Alucard with every thrust.

Eager to hear more of those little moans, Geralt lifted up one of Alucard’s legs, hitching it over his arm to get a better angle, driving himself right into that sweet spot deep inside. Alucard scrabbed at him with his fingers, scratching his shoulder and arching into it. 

Geralt couldn’t stop looking at him, at the way his lips were parted. How his eyes were liquid and golden, and the way his cock was so damn defenseless and soft. He pressed his palm against it, trapping it between Alucard’s belly and his palm, just pressing. It was so beautiful to see Alucard thrash under him, tossing his head and sending those messy, white locks of hair everywhere. 

Geralt fucked harder. His heart pounded, and the freedom of it all but choked him as he realized he could. He didn't have to be careful or hold back. Nothing he did could break Alucard, nothing could harm him by accident, and if Geralt wanted to fuck him like an animal in heat he _could_.

“Yes,” Dracula hissed in his ear, the words riding hard on the prickling sensation of teeth at his neck. “Use all your strength, he can take it. Make him scream. _Fuck him_.”

Dracula leaned over both of them, caught one of Alucard’s wrists, and pressed it to the bed above his head. The position stretched out Alucard’s chest, and made him toss his head again. It was so utterly hot that Geralt had to curse quietly under his breath. 

He did as Dracula said. He spread his knees for more leverage and then started fucking into Alucard with long strokes. He pulled out as far as he had the patience for, and then pushed back in. _Hard_. So hard that he rocked Alucard up in the bed until they both hit the immovable brace of Dracula’s arm holding Alucard captive.

The heavy weight of Dracula weighed down on top of Geralt, caging him as he fucked Alucard with ruthless abandon. With every thrust, Dracula’s cock rubbed over the crack of his ass, slicked up and fiery hot against him. Delicate, sharp little claws pushed his head to the side, bearing his neck to Dracula’s hot breath. Geralt’s rhythm stuttered briefly as Dracula wound his free hand though Geralt’s hair. Geralt knew what was coming. He wanted it so bad he could taste it himself, but rather than the bite Geralt longed for, Dracula just tilted his mouth up to whisper right in his ear.

“Oh, the things I’m going to do to you. I’m going to bite you, shove my teeth, my cock, my power inside of you, until you can feel nothing else. I’m going to fuck you so thoroughly you won’t be able to put two thoughts together.”

If anything, the filthy words only drove Geralt harder. Sweat started to drip into his eyes and his neck ached with the angle that Dracula held his head at, but the pleasure mounting inside of him was too great to ignore. Tight muscles clenched around his cock as Alucard flexed and arched under him as Alucard’s cock twitched back to life, slowly filling up under Geralt’s hand. Soft moans blended in with the smooth slap and wet slide flesh on flesh, and he couldn’t have said how much of that was him or Alucard. 

“Think of it. Alucard’s mouth on you and my cock buried deep inside. Should I hold you down? Would you like that as much as my son does? To be held, powerless, as we both take our pleasure from you, in every way we can?”

Tightness coiled up inside of Geralt’s body, bringing him to a fever pitch. He was so close, his balls ached with it. His cock felt massive and swollen, the head catching on Alucard’s rim every time he pulled his hips back. The scent of blood filled the air again, and Geralt glanced down. He’d dug his fingernails into Alucard’s thigh so hard that he’d broken skin, and fresh little trails of crimson smeared down that perfect flesh. 

The pleasure was so intense it was nearly pain. But before he could reach release Dracula pulled him and wrapped one arm around his shoulders; the other hand stayed at his hip, and held him tight. It wasn’t quite enough to pull Geralt’s cock out completely, but it did take away most of his leverage. A scream of pure frustration clawed out of Geralt’s throat as he struggled fruitlessly against the hold. He still had one of Alucard’s legs slug over his arm, so he cradled it close, lifting up Alucard’s hips, and pulling him onto Geralt’s throbbing cock. 

“That’s right, Geralt. Get as much as you can while I plunder your body.” Dracula’s voice coiled through him like a drug, raced across his skin like a trail of delightfully cold spiderwebs, making his skin prickle and tighten. The hand on his shoulder shifted to tilt his head away, again baring his neck.

Now Dracula bit down, as slow and careful with Geralt now as he had been savage with Alucard earlier. Geralt’s whole body arched into it as he screamed again, this time in pleasure mixed with pain. His body was one solid heartbeat, pounding through him in time with each slow swallow. There was nothing but the teeth in his neck, the hands on his body, and his cock still buried in that molten, wet heat. Everything was too much, every sensation ramped up to its fullest extent. He could feel Dracula’s soft tongue lap at the wound those sharp teeth made, felt his own blood well up, overflow, and trickle down his chest. The smell of copper and fire and ice on the air tickled at his nose and his hands spasmed around Alucard’s thighs. 

He hadn’t even realized he’d stopped moving until Alucard began to writhe against him, impossibly fucking himself on Geralt’s firmly held body. Still, Dracula drank on. Slow, measured sips that felt far deeper than they probably were. Geralt shuddered and squirmed and twisted, but it was no use. All he could do was take what they gave him.

Finally, Dracula released his hips, letting those impossible to stop thrusts and jerks continue on. That still didn’t change the fact that when Geralt felt a slick touch against his hole, he nearly jumped right out of his skin, the pleasure of it like a jolt of electricity. The pressure was harder than he expected and the intrusion burning as it breached him. Slick and thick, it occurred to him it was definitely more than one finger. 

He jerked, trying to deal with the amassing sensations. Not only was their the delicious slow sucking at his neck, but there was the pleasure of the tight muscles gripping his cock, the wet, smooth heat of it, and the ruthless fingers pushing inside of him without warning or mercy. Geralt couldn’t move far, though. Dracula’s teeth were still firmly imbedded in his neck, and the full body spasm only caused Dracula to bite down a little harder, holding Geralt in place. That sweet pain-pleasure poured from the bite straight down into Geralt’s groin, and his spine turned liquid. He wanted to fight it, to move like his body was screaming at him to, but that liquid pleasure, somehow both hot and cold at the same time, held him in place. 

The fingers inside of him thrust forward, jerking his hips with it, and forcing his cock deep into Alucard’s waiting body. Dracula was as merciless with his fingers as he was with his fangs, fucking him harder with the two fingers, controlling the pace with savage efficiency. It was all too much for Geralt. With each thrust of his hips he was impaling himself on those fingers. Pleasure ramped up by leaps and bounds, so high that his vision was all but gone. His awareness had narrowed to just this moment, this tangle of limbs and pleasure, and the bodies pressed so close to him.

Every forceful plunge of those fingers inside him thrust Geralt even harder into Alucard, almost as if Dracula were fucking them both on his hand at the same time. Without even realizing it, Geralt had closed his eyes, every fiber of his being focused on the pleasure building inside of him, and the bodies that burned hot against him. 

It was a surprise when Alucard’s mouth sealed over his, and arms wrapped around him, caging Geralt between the two of them. The new position drove Alucard down on Geralt’s cock, bringing stars to the backs of his eyelids and forcing him to lean down into Dracula’s fingers. He moaned, gasping into Alucard’s mouth as the sensation swept over him. Breath burned in his lungs and his chest tightened up. The pleasure concentrating in his groin pushed the last coherent thought out of him while the fingers inside him pushed him right over the edge. 

He yelled, scrabbling to get a hold of something, anything as his body finally gave into the sensation. Every muscle locked itself, his cock swelled and jerked as he spilled his seed into that perfect heat clutching at him. Wave after wave of pleasure rolled over him as spurt after spurt of come flooded out of him. Alucard kissed him through it, sucking at his tongue as Dracula rubbed his fingers in tight circles inside Geralt, prolonging the already mind breaking orgasm. 

Geralt sagged between them. His vision still wasn’t working correctly and his heart pounded so loud in his chest that it was the only thing he could hear. Sloppily, he tried to return the kiss, and his hands relaxed from their bruisingly tight clutch around Alucard’s body. This time he was sure he left not only bruises but some scratches, too.

His throat and shoulder throbbed in time with his still aching groin, and a small, sharp pain lanced through him as Dracula’s teeth slowly pulled out of him. He arched up, crying out again as the sweet sensation left him shuddering, eyes wet and head thrown back. He hadn’t even noticed how deep the bite was, not while Dracula was drinking; the sucking and lapping at his flesh had just blended in with the feeling of being so full and covered. Trapped, but in the best way. 

The pain didn’t last for long, as ice cold licking soothed his sore skin, causing him to groan and shiver. It was too much. He was still so full of those thick, rough fingers, still encased deep inside that burning, wet heat. Slowly, he came back to himself, flexing his fingers and toes, reminding himself that he had a body outside of pleasure. Gentle licks and kisses carefully coaxed him back into awareness. He realized that Alucard was still rocking on his softening cock, slowly rutting his slicked up cock against Geralt’s abs. 

That slow circling deep inside him slowed as Dracula pulled his fingers out. Geralt whined deep in the back of his throat, still needy to be filled up even though he’d just come. 

“Shhhh,” Dracula said against his skin. “You’ll get more soon. More than you can take.”

Dracula put his hand on the back of Geralt’s neck and pushed him into Alucard, toppling them flat onto the bed. Geralt didn't even care about being manhandled. He just went with it, sprawling face first into Alucard’s chest as they landed on the messed up sheets again. The hand trailed from Geralt’s neck, slow and possessive. Those warm fingers spread wide as they trailed down between his shoulder blades, lovingly caressing the bumps of his spine until they reached his ass. There, Dracula caught both of Geralt’s cheeks in his hands and pulled them apart, spreading Geralt’s ass obscenely.

“Are you coherent now?” Dracula asked, keeping Geralt open, letting the cool air kiss his wet hole.

“You…” Geralt swallowed and shook his head, rubbing his face into Alucard’s scarred chest. He tried to drag his mind back back into some semblance of order. After a breath, he tried again. “You gonna paint me up like the artist you are? Everything about you is so fucking pretty. Everything you touch. You gonna make me pretty, too?” 

“Yes.” Dracula’s voice hitched on unspoken words. He shifted behind Geralt, spreading his knees and forcing Geralt’s legs apart even more. “Pay attention now. I wouldn't want you to miss this.”

Then Geralt felt something wide and blunt, very hot pressing against his slicked hole. His whole body was still wrecked by tiny shivers; the aftershocks of pleasure that he held off for so damn long still clung to his nerves. Geralt gasped, arching his back when Dracula pushed. 

He pushed slowly, firmly, showing no intention of stopping. Past the first ring of muscles and then deeper, he opened Geralt up with that same kind of unstoppable force he displayed earlier. Like he was conquering Geralt’s body the same way he would conquer a battlefield: taking no prisoners. He only stopped when his balls rested tightly against Geralt’s own, the whole thick length of him nestled inside Geralt. 

Geralt twitched and clenched against the intrusion, body reeling with too many sensations, too fast. Dracula was still holding his cheeks apart, so far Geralt could feel how it pulled at his hole where it was stretched around Dracula’s girth. He opened his mouth to say something, but only managed a hoarse moan.

“Now,” Dracula said in a low, commanding voice, “we can begin.”

He let go of Geralt’s asscheeks and again tangled his hand into Geralt’s hair, pulling firmly up, making Geralt follow the pull and straighten. That forced him to sink even deeper on the cock inside him as he sat up in Dracula’s lap.

“Surely, we couldn’t have exhausted your stamina yet.” Dracula continued to speak as he pulled at Geralt’s hair again, making him raise up even higher, making him slide completely off the hard cock inside him. Geralt whimpered when the thick cockhead pulled at his rim and then slipped off, leaving him achingly empty. Then Dracula’s other hand was on his hip, pulling him down, making him fuck himself again on that cock. Making him feel the initial breach again, and the way his hole stretched out to accommodate the thickness before he could sink down. Until finally he was sitting on Dracula’s lap again, so full he could barely breathe around it.

Geralt found himself grinning in between gasps and choked out whimpers. He raked his nails down Alucard’s chest, reveling in the cry it brought out. “Mmm did I-- oh! Did I not say, oh, _fuck_. That I had more persistence than sense?”

Dracula laughed, pulling Geralt’s head back again and delivering a series of sharp bites to the tensed tendon of Geralt’s neck. Each one was a jolt of pleasurable fire on his skin, lighting him up.

“We’ll definitely put it to the test,” Dracula breathed right into Geralt’s ear.

“You are one mean bastard, aren’t you?” He shuddered as he tried fruitlessly to take control of the pace.

“Hmm.” Dracula closed both his arms around Geralt’s hips and pulled him up as effortlessly as Geralt was some kind of stuffed doll. “You like me that way.”

“It makes your rare sweetness all the more delightful. My pretty artist.” Geralt let himself be manhandled, gave himself into the touch and just let himself enjoy the power needed to lift his own body like it was nothing.

“I am not yours.” The words were a deep growl, punctuated by a hard thrust. “I am no one’s. Not any more.”

Geralt tried to roll his hips into Dracula’s body in an attempt to get enough leverage to fuck himself deeper onto that burning hot cock. It was no use, though, he was held too tightly, left at too delicate a position for him to do more than tease them both. “Didn’t you say you would paint me up? Mark me? Make me pretty? You are my artist.”

“Hold on,” Dracula rasped. His hands clenched bruising hard on Geralt’s hips, and then he slammed Geralt down even as his hips were surging up. The movement drove his cock powerfully into Geralt, hitting that spot that made Geralt’s still mostly soft cock jerk and twitch. He couldn't help but hiss and pant breathlessly as Dracula fucked him brutally fast. 

Five, then ten thrusts went by and he could feel Dracula getting impossibly harder inside him, swelling, and then a rush of heat coated his insides. Geralt’s own hands were clenched on Dracula’s wrists, holding on as he rode the vampire’s orgasm. The sensation of feeling the other man come in him was surprisingly overwhelming when there wasn’t a hard cock to distract him. He was hyper aware of the way the sound of fucking became louder, wetter, as Dracula kept thrusting shallowly into Geralt. He could feel the slickness gathering between them, dripping out of him, and he could smell the bitter tang of it in the air. Perversely, he felt a flush paint his cheeks, so hot that that the skin prickled. There was something stunningly erotic in being just this, a receptacle for the other man’s pleasure; in being made to feel it, experience it, without a single distraction.

“Gods, that feels good.” Geralt didn’t even mean to say the words out loud, the thought went straight from nowhere and out of his mouth without any filter attached to it.

The laughter he heard this time wasn’t Dracula, but Alucard. The younger vampire was back on his knees in front of Geralt, hands reaching for his face, kissing him softly. Alucard’s thumbs traced gently over Geralt’s face, swiping the sweat away.

“It’s just the beginning.” Alucard’s hands trailed down Geralt’s neck and shoulders, then over his sides, moving over the bumps of his ribs and down to his hips. There they changed direction, cool and gentle they slid to cover Geralt’s ass and pull his cheeks apart while a few of his fingers slid between them to feel where Dracula was not only still hard inside Geralt, but starting to fuck him again. He whimpered into the kiss at the sensation of curious fingers tracing his rim, exploring the stretch of it around Dracula.

“Yes,” Geralt groaned softly, and circled his hips a little. “Fuck, it’s...it’s been a long time since I’ve done this. Been this way with two men.” He couldn’t stop the shiver that raced over him, and he leaned back into Dracula’s arms. “I think you two might break me.”

“We aim to,” Dracula murmured, fucking up into Geralt with short, sharp thrusts that made it hard to speak.

“And put you back together,” Alucard added, tangling his hands back into Geralt’s hair.

“ _Oh._ Oh, good. Yes.” He tilted his head into Alucard’s hold. Nothing quite compared to the feeling of those hands running through his scalp. Combined with the attention Dracula was giving him, Geralt felt his cock twitch and slowly fill. “Maybe I’ll break you two a little, too.”

Alucard hummed and pulled Geralt’s head down, so far Geralt came nose to tip with the head of Alucard’s cock - back to full hardness now and so pretty. He didn't need more encouragement. He opened his mouth and licked the head, flattening his tongue against the glans, tasting precome and hints of previous orgasm. Alucard moaned but didn't let Geralt do much more than gasp in surprise when the directing hand in his hair pushed him lower. Hard enough that Geralt barely managed to keep his teeth away from the sensitive skin there as Alucard pushed him onto his dick so fast that Geralt could feel it bump his throat and go in. 

He choked, jerking reflexively against the sensation, but Alucard didn’t let go. Geralt blinked hard and struggled a little in that firm grip. His nose was all but buried in the soft skin at the root of Alucard’s cock, and his throat worked frantically to swallow against the length lodged in there.

Alucard pulled out just as unexpectedly and Geralt gulped in air. He opened his mouth to say something, only Alucard was thrusting in again. His cock slid in over Geralt’s tongue in one long thrust straight into his throat, just as Dracula did the same behind him, filling him all the way up. He could feel the heat pool back into his belly and trickle slowly to his cock, making him hard again. His cock swelled and bumped up against his belly and his legs as he was jerked around by the vampires. 

After the first few thrusts, they started to get into a rhythm; deep, filling thrusts, choking Geralt and bottoming out in him every time. Geralt grabbed hold of Alucard’s hips and slammed his face in farther down on that thick cock, holding himself there, and hummed. Alucard cried out and jerked his hips, but Geralt held tight. His face was hot and tight from lack of air, and his vision had started to go white, but he kept on, pleasuring Alucard as much as he could. 

He was getting off on it more than he expected. His cock was already leaking and tingling, even without any stimulation, and he found himself frustratedly pushing his hips back at Dracula. He wanted more of that stretch, more of that cock filling him with steady, utterly controlled thrusts.

Geralt pulled off of Alucard just long enough to get a fresh gasp of air, and then slammed back down, eager to taste and be filled. Deep as he could, he started sucking, hard, pulling out the bitter flavor he was looking for. He hollowed his cheeks and licked under and around the bottom of Alucard’s cock, tracing the veins there back and forth, and a little bit of drool trailed out of his mouth. His face was wet with it. The grip in his hair was painfully tight, and it only served to make the heat inside him grow. Everything was sound and smell, the musk of Alucard’s desire all but driving any other thought away from his mind. 

He wanted to lick, to taste, to fuck, to have that cock driving inside him deeper, harder, more of it. Geralt was sucking hard enough, desperately enough, that he was choking every so often. But he didn't care. He just needed more, and needed it now. 

When a hand closed around his cock, already so hard and leaking, he screamed around the cock in his mouth and thrashed, coming into that stroking hand. He spilled himself again and again, until tears were leaking out of the corners of his eyes. His muscles clenched so tightly that it felt as if his bones were cracking under the strain, and everything was hot and good and too much. 

Just as he was starting to fall, his body suddenly boneless from the orgasm that had been wrung out of him, Alucard pulled hard on his hair and shoved his cock deep inside Geralt’s loose mouth. The bitter, hot taste of come filled him up. Then he was left gaping, his mouth wide open as Alucard finished all over his face. Thick ropes of come splattered over his cheeks and hair and dripped down his chin. 

The taste and the smell of it was so alluring, he wanted more, wanted to lick every little bit up that he could. But he was still too strung out from his own release to be terribly coordinated. Geralt stretched his neck forward and tried to lean into Alucard’s dick, to nuzzle up against the dripping head and catch the last little drop in his mouth.

But there were hands on him again, on his hip, on his chest. Pulling him up again. He went, boneless and pliant, letting Dracula pull him up against his chest, so tight that it was hard to breathe. 

Dracula fucked into Geralt with vicious, short jabs that hit that spot inside that made his oversensitive, softening cock jerk uselessly. Geralt was making sounds, he knew, breathy gasps as Dracula fucked into him like a beast, crushing his body against his marble tight chest. Within moments Geralt felt the cock inside of him grow impossibly harder again, swelling and then coming once more. It filled him up with even more come. It was already slicking his thighs, dripping down his balls, and making obscenely wet sounds every time Dracula pushed his cock inside him. Through it all, Geralt could only whimper and twitch, squirming helplessly on the still completely hard dick spearing him.

Dracula barely stopped pulsing inside him before he jerked Geralt’s head to the side and licked broad, wet laps over his face, licking off the sweat and come. His tongue swept a wide, wet path over Geralt’s cheek, catching the corner of his lips. Geralt tried to meet it, to lick back even as his eyes were rolling back from the overload of sensation.

Come dripped steadily down Geralt’s thighs, a hot, slow trickle that made him moan like he was in heat. Dracula continued to thrust, though he slowed to a lazy crawl of a movement. It was just enough to keep shoving that come inside of him, and enough to let a little leak out at every thrust. Geralt felt filthy and used, but cherished and wonderful at the same time. 

He twitched hard in Dracula’s grasp every time that cock nudged past his swollen rim; a completely involuntary movement that made him shiver with aftershocks. Geralt’s skin felt like it was burning off of him. He throbbed in so many places that he found himself wishing for more of the ice.

“Dracula. Lover. Use your tongue on me,” Geralt said. “Need the cold. Hurts. Good, but hurts. Give me more.” His brain was drenched in honeyed slowness, and it was difficult to put the words together. So much so that it took him a minute to realized he’d finally used Dracula’s given name. So often the nobility were incredibly touchy about such things, which was why he’d avoided it before then. It felt right when he said it, though, with Dracula so hot and wonderful behind and inside of him.

“It’s not just the tongue,” Dracula said softly. He mouthed over the back of Geralt’s neck and licked up the sweat there. Before Geralt had the time to blink in confusion, the whole length of Dracula’s cock became ice cold. The chill made him squeak and squirm, thrashing against Dracula’s hold. Cold scorched him from the inside out, chilling the overused tissues, and making him tingle all over and arch up. 

Then it was gone almost as soon as it came. He thrashed again with a groan. The heat of Dracula’s cock against his chilled flesh was unbearable, too much almost. He struggled to move but there was no escape; all he managed was to fuck himself deeper on the cock inside him.

“Fuuuuck.” The word was barely even a moan, and Geralt could feel Dracula’s smile on his skin. As shocking as it was, the cold did actually numb some of the oversensitivity. If he’d been less wet, it would have hurt, possibly a great deal. But all the come and oil inside of him cushioned the impact of it. Mostly what it did was force Geralt’s brain back into working order. He squirmed a little harder on that hard cock buried inside of him. Was it bigger now than when they started? If felt bigger. Gods, he was so full. The pleasure hovered right on the edge of pain, a line they’d flirted with all night. “Why do I feel like you and I have different definitions for the word, ‘helping’?”

Alucard laughed at him, “Isn’t that how those kind of deals always go?” 

Geralt didn't understand what Alucard was referring to but a sudden series of sharp thrusts up into him distracted him before he could ask.

Movement caught his eye, drawing his attention to where Alucard shifted down in front of him. All of that messy, silver hair was in his face, covering one eye, and falling over his shoulders as he dropped to all fours in front of Geralt, crawling closer. When he caught Geralt watching, he shook his head again, making his lovely hair fall all around him.

“You said you wanted my hair around your cock, didn’t you?” Alucard asked with a wicked smirk.

Only Geralt wasn’t hard. Not just that, but he couldn’t possibly get hard again anytime soon, not after two consecutive orgasms.

“Oh Gods.” Geralt squirmed, tightening his tired muscles on the dick inside him, and looked down to his soft, limp cock. He wanted to feel Alucard’s hair there, oh so much, but he wouldn't be able to stand it. Not how he was, not soft and tingling, painfully oversensitive. “I can’t.” It wasn’t a protest, rather a desperate plea. He was still burning up, the smell of sex choking out every other thought right out of his mind. All he could think of was sex, of the skin flush against him, the taste of come still on his tongue, and the ruthless cock still pushing inside him. Using him. Making a mess out of him.

Alucard grabbed hold of his thick mane of silver hair, smoothing it out and wrapping it up tight around his fist. Then he slid closer, just brushing the edge of that silken rope to Geralt’s sensitive, hurting flesh. “I’ll be so soft for you.” He rubbed just the side of Geralt’s cock, avoiding the tender head. “Doesn’t it feel good?”

And it did, oh, it did. Better than the smoothest court gowns and daintiest silken undergarments. Alucard’s lovely tresses felt like a cloud on his skin. Geralt couldn’t help himself, he thrust his hips forward, eager to feel more of that gentle smoothness. This forced the cock inside of him to rub just _so_ against his inner walls, choking a strangle scream out of him. His chest heaved so hard he was shaking with it, and still Dracula fucked into him, hot and relentlessly huge.

“Good?” Alucard breathed across Geralt’s cock little puffs of air that left him struggling from the feeling. It was too much, and all the good-bad feelings were getting mixed up in his head. Geralt wanted to close his eyes, but his gaze was inexorably drawn down. 

“So good.” Tears were in his eyes and his mouth was dry from all the panting, his lips drawn back in a wince. 

Alucard looked up at him with a knowing smirk and unspooled the hair from his hand. Holding just a portion of it, he wrapped it around Geralt’s soft cock and just held it there. It was so soft, and so fucking hot all at the same time. Seeing that beauty made manifest encasing his defenseless cock burned him up inside. He _wished_ he was hard again, because the need to fuck into that silver hair was a near tangible force. Each slow thrust inside of him only jerked him forward, but that wonderful soft hair held him safe, bringing out pleasure he didn’t think he was capable of feeling. 

Just when Geralt thought he couldn’t survive anything else, Alucard shifted, let his mane of hair fall away. Then he opened his mouth to take in all of Geralt’s soft cock, rolling it against his tongue. Geralt cried out at the feel of that hot, wet touch, and he clamped down on Dracula again. It only prompted the other vampire to add a wicked little grind to every thrust up into Geralt’s wrecked body. Gods, he was so open already. He felt so damn sloppy. Dracula’s dick was squelching on every thrust in, and Geralt’s rim so swollen already he could no longer separate the pain and pleasure; both sensations were too tightly entwined.

“Open your mouth,” Dracula said quietly, pulling Geralt’s face around so that he could slot his own lips against Geralt’s. He barely had the time to choke in a short breath when he let the liquid heat of the power spilling into his mouth on Dracula’s breath. It slid thickly down his throat, not unlike the come he swallowed not long ago. 

He drank it down, and his throat worked over and over as he tried to take it in, to suck the power right out of Dracula’s lips. Starbursts of light and sensation exploded behind his closed eyes. Colors and shapes chased each other as the sheer hunger, the unbridled life, scorched him inside. It spread through every bone and sent prickly goosebumps down his skin. 

Pure energy, so hot that it bordered on corrosive, filled him down to the tips of his fingers. His body was still oversensitive, maybe even more now than before. But it was also alive. The exhaustion of before was completely forgotten as he gasped in desperate breaths against Dracula’s smirking mouth. One heartbeat passed, then two, and he realized he was hard again. Hard and straining in the wet heat of Alucard’s mouth. 

“Oh Gods.” Geralt shuddered out a breath, hips hitching helplessly forward. Then he reared back as he remembered he was still seated on the hard column of Dracula’s cock, who came at least twice already and never got soft for a second. “You are mad.”

He thought he might be in love.

Alucard opened his mouth wide and let Geralt’s cock slide messily from his lips. Geralt watched, mesmerised, as the wet head of his cock slipped over those pink lips and then down the smooth line of his cheek, leaving a trail of saliva and precome on Alucard’s skin. The younger vampire gave the tip a little lick, still watching Geralt, and then he pulled himself up, gripping onto Geralt’s arms for leverage. They kissed, just a teasing little brush of lips, enough for Geralt to taste himself on Alucard’s lips. Then Alucard pulled away and leaned over his shoulder to kiss Dracula. 

Geralt turned to watch, mesmerised by the obscene beauty of their mouths sliding together just inches from his face. Their tongues flowed in and out, flashing wetly, and making him hunger for a taste. Just the sight of it made his cock twitch and he clenched down on the cock still unbelievably hard inside of him. Geralt could feel that they were exchanging power; it tingled across his senses like a breath of hot air. A bright flush rose up on Alucard’s skin. The scratches and bruises Geralt had left on him disappeared within seconds, and Alucard’s throat worked as he swallowed the power down. 

Geralt couldn't stand it. Couldn't just sit there and do nothing. 

Clumsily, he reached for Alucard and leaned towards the two kissing vampires. He pressed his tongue to where their lips were sliding against each other, tasting both of them as well as the concentrated power there. The taste of it was almost painful, and so much more potent than what Dracula fed him. A lick, two, and then they broke their kiss, turning to him and licking back.

“Wider,” Dracula said, licking teasingly against Geralt’s lower lip. “Open up wider for us.” 

Geralt did. He opened his mouth more, chasing Dracula’s teasing little licks with his tongue even as Alucard’s tongue joined in, licking over them both. His eyes all but crossed at the sensual slide of it, the taste of frost and embers in both their mouths. Everything was slick and wet, and his whole awareness narrowed to this moment. To the cock inside him and the tongues pushing their way inside his mouth. He whimpered and then groaned when he felt hands on his ass; Alucard’s hands, kneading, pulling his cheeks apart and reawakening the burn of his abused rim.

“Will you open up here too?” Alucard let his fingers slide to the slick rim, slipping on all the come smeared there. Then he pressed against that sensitive place Geralt and Dracula were still joined at.

Geralt’s eyes rolled back into his head at the thought of it, and his body jerked in pleasure. 

“Yes. Oh, yes. Slow, please. Don’t know, _nnnnngg_ , it’s just, it’s been a while. Please.” Being split open that wide by such two well endowed men made Geralt shiver a bit in anticipation and just a touch of worry. It would be a hell of a task to get them both inside of him. He wanted it, though, couldn’t wait to feel the burn and stretch of them both fucking into him.

One finger curled up and pushed in, sliding along the hard length of cock that was already filling him to the brim. He shuddered at the sensation, hyper aware of the additional stretch. Alucard sighed and surged closer so that their cocks rubbed together, trapped between their bellies, and pushed in another finger. It went in surprisingly easy, the abused flesh giving in so quickly that Geralt all but sobbed with the sensation. He tossed his head back and panted, overwhelmed. 

He could feel Alucard moving inside him, could feel him rubbing Dracula’s cock inside Geralt. Geralt shuddered in tandem with Dracula, whose breath was fanning over the back of Geralt’s shoulder. Each breath came out faster and faster with every moment of this delicious torment. 

Alucard shifted his fingers, doing his best to wrap them around the girth of the dick in Geralt. Then he stroked, stretching Geralt’s abused rim and caressing Dracula at the same time. It felt wonderful. Almost too much to deal with. Painful, yes, but so very good. Each touch sent fire hot licks of pleasure down to Geralt’s cock.

He was so wet, so filled with Dracula’s come already, that Geralt was _still_ dripping with it. Slick trickled down around Alucard’s hand and Geralt found himself gently circling his hips, rubbing it in. The tiny movement also helped stretch his rim out further as he leaned into the burn and forced himself wider. His skin lit up with the sensation of it, and the longer Alucard teased them both, the more Geralt found himself rocking down on those fingers and cock. A blistering hot blush raced down his face and chest, and he moaned and arched his chest up. 

“Yes, yes,” he gasped, amazed at himself. “Do it, get inside me. Now. _Please_.”

He wasn’t quite sure what happened next, who moved and how they rearranged him, but his knees were up. Dracula’s powerful hands were under each one, holding him aloft and so obscenely open that Geralt blushed furiously again. Alucard was there, between his legs. His cock was slick with oil and held firmly in his hand as he pressed it right where Geralt was stretched so tightly around Dracula. 

He pushed and Geralt made a sound suspiciously close to a scream, tossing his head back as his eyes went fuzzy. The pressure was unbelievable. The resistance was so strong he was sure it wasn't going to happen after all. Dracula’s cock was large enough, and adding Alucard’s impressive girth to that too seemed impossible to take.

Then suddenly his body gave and Alucard sank in. The resistance in Geralt’s body broke completely and he opened up to that second cock. He whined, loud and broken, as he felt it slide against the cock already inside him. It was too much, too fast. His muscles were clenching and twitching beyond his control and his chest seized so much he couldn't even breathe right. All the while, his cock drooled clear precome against his belly, still hard and pulsing.

“Wait,” he gasped out. “Please, please, just. Let me---” 

Great, shuddering gasps escaped him as he panted and shook around the intrusion. It was a good thing they were holding him up, because Geralt couldn’t move for a moment, couldn’t think beyond the two cocks inside of him. His mouth lay open and his eyes closed as he focused on just breathing through the stretch, so glorious and pleasurable that it filled up every sense. He reached out to both Dracula and Alucard, wanting to feel them, to touch and be close, but it was so hard to think. Hands helped him, guided him to their hair and their shoulders, and lips closed around his neck and mouth, cold and hot respectively. 

The stretch and the burn faded a bit. Enough that Geralt rolled his hips just a little, just to feel how it would go. Pleasure shot through him and he very nearly came on the spot. But he couldn’t get any leverage, any real control of the movement, and he whined again.

“You…” His voice was low and rough. It cracked so hard that he had to swallow and start over. “You have to move.” Because he certainly wasn’t able to.

“Yes.” Dracula’s voice sounded tight. His immense control was finally reaching its limits it seemed, and the fraying edges were showing. Geralt shuddered; desire and satisfaction twinned together inside of him at the tiny sign of the master vampire finally breaking down.

There were hands on his hips then, wide and strong, lifting him up like a child’s toy. Using him, dragging his overstretched body up and then then pushing him down, onto the cocks stretching him even more. Making him shout obscenities, or maybe beg, he wasn’t even sure. 

Time was meaningless. It slipped forward and slowed in turns. His chest was so tight he could barely get any breath in him. His sight was blurry and his lips were dry and cracked from the open mouthed panting he was doing. 

For endless moments it felt like he was just his hole, like his whole awareness existed just to feel the continuous slide of that huge intrusion into him and out. The pleasure of the stretch took over his mind. The way it pressed at that spot inside him constantly lit his whole body on fire, making his bones almost vibrate with sensation. His cock was leaking precome, or maybe come, he couldn't even tell. Everything felt like one endless orgasm to him, and his body was beyond his control as they mercilessly fucked him onto their cocks. 

Eventually it was too much. He just couldn't take any more. His skin shivered like he was a startled racehorse and every nerve burned like a supernova. 

He lost time, coming back suddenly to the sound of Alucard gasping wetly into his ear. Dracula kept both of them in place, and fucked his still, oh gods _still_ , hard cock against Alucard’s softening one. Everything was so wet, and the sound of squelching on every thrust in was like a jolt to his system. 

Dracula tensed, snapping his hips one more time and splashed even more hot come into Geralt. There was just too much of it. He could feel it spilling everywhere, could feel the wetness smeared on his buttocks, on his legs, and could smell the chokingly intense scent of it in the room. He groaned, blindly looking for Alucard’s lips, finding a jaw instead and mouthing that sloppily. His arms weren’t coordinated enough to do more than just paw clumsily at whatever flesh he could touch, smooth and slick with sweat.

“You did so good,” Dracula said in soft fits and starts, still shuddering in the last aftershocks of his own orgasm. He mouthed at Geralt’s shoulder between words. “So good, taking us both.”

Geralt curled into the praise, trembling so hard that he thought he might shake apart. He couldn’t see for all the tears in his eyes, and his arms lay limp, forced up against his chest by the bodies he was crushed against.

Alucard’s soft cock slid out on a rush of come and lubricant that sent another fiery hot blush up Geralt’s cheeks. Oh, he was such a mess. A trembling, wrecked mess and he loved every second of it. But he was becoming aware of the various aches and pains, and his hole burned like fire after the abuse he subjected it to today. He squirmed weakly and shuddered again at the feel of Dracula still unbelievably hard inside him.

“Shh.” Dracula was petting him, letting go of his legs, and easing him down onto the bed. “Shhh,” he soothed again, and started pulling out of Geralt.

“Wait,” Geralt said weakly. With what little strength he had, he grabbed for Dracula’s hip and tried to pull him close, preventing the vampire from pulling out of his sloppy, wet hole. “Stay. Please.” He turned to look into Dracula’s eyes, to beg him with his gaze. He was just too open, too wet and used. The mere idea of being left empty after that physically pained him. He needed something inside of him, both because he needed the physical contact to help ease him down from being so stretched, and also because he craved the closeness. His body felt huge and unweildly, like he didn’t quite fit right in his skin, and he desperately needed the comforting presence of his lovers around him. Geralt felt weak, weaker than he could ever remember, and vulnerable in ways he was fairly sure he never had been in his life.

Dracula’s gaze softened, and he tucked himself tightly into Geralt’s back, cock still hard and deep inside of him. His arms wrapped around Geralt’s chest like iron bands and his mouth, his teeth, settled against Geralt’s exposed throat. Somehow they ended up laying down sideways on the beautifully soft bed, the velvets and furs comforting and accepting them like another lover. 

With his other hand, Geralt tried to grab for Alucard, to pull him closer, but the young vampire was already there. He moulded himself to Geralt’s front, one hand gently cradling Geralt’s spent cock. The other arm wrapped across Geralt to pull Dracula closer towards them. One of Dracula’s arms reached out to pet down Alucard’s shivering side, leaving Geralt tightly wrapped between them both. 

His whole body shook, but it was warm, so wonderfully warm, to be held. Bizarrely, the firm hand on his soft, sore cock helped ease the aftershocks, the painful twitches and muscle spasms that wracked Geralt’s body with alarming frequency. The pressure kept him still and warm, safe from his own body’s overstimulation. He rumbled his approval, words not yet coming to him easily. 

“Beautiful. Both of you.” Dracula’s low voice drifted over them. Very briefly the pressure on them increased as he squeezed them both close. 

Geralt whined weakly as the cock inside of him shifted ever so slightly, lighting him up. Something about the soft, little movements felt amazing against his battered body. As if all the previous hurt and ecstasy had only made him more receptive to small pleasures. 

There was pleasure in the feel of that tight body pressed against his back, the way their skin slid against skin, and the strength of the arms keeping him close. The gentle thrusts pushed him into Alucard, but not forcefully. It was just enough to enhance the pleasure, and bring his awareness of the body pressed in tightly to his front. He moaned, relaxing into the gently grinding thrusts, and let himself be overtaken by the sensation. 

Geralt was hyper aware of the shape of Dracula inside him. After what they did tonight, he was so stretched already, so loose that getting one cock inside him was child’s play. He would have thought that after being taken by them both, he wouldn’t be as affected by this. 

He was wrong. 

Geralt was so incredibly aware of the dick inside him, the size of it, the weight of it, that he could barely think of anything else. On each careful thrust in he could feel how the thicker head pushed his walls apart, and he shuddered at the feel of the hard length pressing at all the abused flesh inside. It was gentle, almost soothing, how that thick cock rubbed him perfectly. 

The sloppy slide was incredible, and he was so wet already. Between the oil Dracula used to ease the way and the come both he and Alucard left inside him, Geralt’s hole was dripping with slick. Thick trails of it eased out of him on every wet pulse, coating his ass and legs. It had to be making a mess on the plush blankets they rested on, but Geralt couldn’t bring himself to care. The sounds alone were enough to make him shiver and blush, and that didn’t even include the sounds Dracula was making behind him. 

Low grunts of pleasure rumbled out from him, growing increasingly more breathy and desperate. Geralt curled and arched with each noise, his whole body humming with satisfaction at being able to wring those sounds out of Dracula. To break through his perfect calm and see, to feel, even that small loss of control was intoxicating. Geralt found himself letting out tiny, little, oh’s with every shift inside of him. 

In front of him, Alucard’s breath hitched as well. The hand on Geralt’s cock slid slowly down, between his legs, and cradled the entrance there. Geralt could feel Dracula’s cock slide wetly right between Alucard’s fingers. They shivered together, caught up in the moment.

“You are so filthy right now,” Alucard whispered to him. He crushed himself closer in and pressed his wet lips to Geralt’s shoulder, mouthing at the skin there. “I can feel it just leaking out with every thrust he makes.” As if to prove the truth of his words, Alucard rubbed his fingers all around Dracula’s cock and Geralt’s swollen, wet rim, making his fingers slip and slide on the mess leaking out.

“Alucard,” Dracula growled, his voice tight and breathy, betraying how close he was to his orgasm. 

He surged behind Geralt, one hand tangling harshly in Alucard’s hair, and pulled his head up into a vicious kiss. His thrusts lost all semblance of gentleness. Geralt arched and thrashed, caught between them as Dracula’s hips surged powerfully into him, spearing him on that thick dick. It was too fast, too strong for him to take. He could feel Dracula’s balls slapping against him as Dracula hammered in without reason, without mercy, chasing his own orgasm. With each hit, Geralt made a broken little sound; little oh’s and ah’s choked by yells he barely managed through his exhausted throat. With a last, fierce thrust Dracula ground himself into Geralt and came again. His cock jerked inside of Geralt’s abused and oversensitive passage, spilling come so hot that it all but scorched Geralt’s flesh.

It took a long time for Dracula to relax his iron grip on them both. For him to stop grinding into Geralt in those barely conscious, tiny movements that nonetheless still sent sparks of sensation down Geralt’s back. Alucard also still had his hand between Geralt’s legs, rubbing at Dracula’s finally softening cock and occasionally at Geralt’s stretched rim, never quite letting him settle down.

Tears flowed freely down Geralt’s cheeks, and his face was buried in Alucard’s neck. He couldn’t frame a single coherent thought in his head, his whole world had narrowed down to where the three of them were joined. The whole lower half of his body ached, huge pulsing waves that synced with his heartbeat. 

Alucard licked his tears away, long soothing strokes of his tongue that cooled his skin.

“Do you want to come?” Alucard asked between licks, so close now that Geralt's nose was full of his scent.

Geralt shook his head no, even though he knew he was lying. He wanted to come again, never wanted this to end, but at the same time he couldn’t even stand the thought of any more stimulation of any kind.

“Rest, then,” Dracula said softly behind him, his voice still rough from his exertion. “We will hold you together. My pretty one…”

Geralt barely registered the words before his eyes rolled back into his head and the world faded, chased into oblivion by warm, soft touches and sweet praise.


	4. Chapter 4

Geralt drifted off. He didn’t really fall asleep, but rather settled into a state closer to that of his meditation; the quiet place that slowed his heartbeat and let his body regenerate at a much faster pace than a normal humans.

It was voices that woke him up, pulled him from that grey mist of nothingless. At first he didn't even understand the words, just the quiet rumble of low voices just beside him. He didn’t even try to open his eyes; his lids were too heavy and his body was still beyond exhausted.

“I did not expect you to give him your power.” Alucard's voice was soft and relaxed in ways Geralt never heard before. 

“Are you jealous?” Dracula sounded too awake, too damn energetic for Geralt’s taste. Why couldn't the man be as half conscious as Geralt or all sleepy and relaxed like Alucard? Didn’t he fuck enough?

“He’s a human.” Alucard clearly pretended not to hear the question. “Didn’t you once say that darkness lives in the hearts of men, which is why it can not be defeated? You also told me your power corrupts. Didn’t you think your power could corrupt him too?”

There was quiet for a while, before Dracula sighed.

“He’s strong, this one. What I gave him shouldn’t be enough to change him in any significant way.”

Another rustle, skin on skin and Geralt really wanted to see what they were doing right then.

“Are you complimenting a human?” The surprise in Alucard’s voice made him sound more awake.

Geralt wanted to snort, he really did, but he was still in that half conscious state where his body was unresponsive to his commands unless he really fought it. He didn’t have the will to fight right this moment. Still, who the hell was human? Not him.

“He’s…” Dracula started, but then his voice trailed off into silence.

“What?” Alucard’s voice was coming from a different angle now. He had to have sat up. “What do you see in him that made you look at him without your usual contempt?” 

“When he laid his eyes on me for the first time, he knew me for what I am.” Dracula’s voice was slow and measured, as if he was trying to gather his own thoughts while he spoke.

“You were a rat when he first laid his eyes on you,” Alucard said with a wry kind of tone. “ _Nine_ of them actually. _And_ you bit him.”

A rat?

The demonic, cock blocking rodent was Dracula? Did Dracula watch him feel up Alucard in the baths? Geralt really had no idea how the hell didn't he get obliterated after that little show. It was clear that Dracula adored Alucard. It was so much more than a power game, more even than simple attraction. Beyond the familial ties, beyond the obvious caution they both shown towards the other, they loved each other. It was painfully apparent. There were things holding them back, with Alucard especially, but that seemed to inconsequential in the face of the willingness to trust they displayed towards each other. Not something he would have expected from a vampire and what was probably some kind of demonic lord.

“You were five minutes from fucking,” Dracula said dryly. “Be glad his arm was the only thing I’ve bitten.”

 _I spend more than five minutes on foreplay,_ Geralt thought with mild indignation. He took great pride in making sure his lovers were well satisfied.

“His arm wasn’t the only thing you bit,” Alucard answered just as dryly, not actually denying the accusation. “You munched on him like he was a favorite treat.”

“He’s interesting,” Dracula mused, voice slow and velvety. “He knew my power, understood the reality of it. He was wary of it. Respectful, even; a man who truly knows what kind of devastation I could bring to a mere mortal like him. Yet he joked.” Dracula sounded baffled then, as if he couldn’t understand Geralt at all. “He was playful. Even when we sparred, he did not seek to injure me out of fear or malice or gain an upper hand. When he thought he managed to injure me, I _saw_ his honest chagrin.”

“He does seem irreverent. Like somebody else I know.” There was a strangely pronounced thread of laughter in Alucard’s voice. 

“I wanted to see.” Dracula shifted on the bed. Beyond the rustle of bedsheets, Geralt heard the quiet gasp from Alucard and the dry sound of hands on skin. “What he would do, how he would taste, with my power inside him.”

A wet sound, like lips against lips.

“Are you disappointed there’s no darkness in him for you to pull to the surface?”

“No,” Dracula answered with surprising fierceness. “There’s so _much_ darkness in him. He smells of it, tastes of it...even his powers are tainted by the very darkness that he fights. Nor is he blind to it in the world around him. He sees the evil that lives in people, but he hasn’t let their corruption taint him. It’s not the absence of it that I find so enthralling. It’s the fact that a being so entrenched in death and darkness can be so untouched by it at the same time.”

_Untouched?_

Geralt forced his eyes open finally, just a sliver, but enough to see Dracula sitting at the head of the massive bed, his back against the carved headboard. He looked relaxed, hands loosely at Alucard’s hips. Alucard sat straddling him. Both of them were in profile to Geralt, letting him see the attractive stretch of Alucard’s body, the curve of Dracula’s muscles, and the long, messy wave of Alucard’s hair trailing down his back, its ends just reaching his ass. That same round and perky ass that Geralt had been inside of not that long ago. Some part of him expected the vampires to be fucking. At this point, his brain was all but wired to expect sex from them.

They weren’t though. From his position, he could see clearly the shadow of Alucard’s hole, the faint traces of slickness on the inside of his cheeks, but both men were relaxed. Alucards arms were draped lazily over Dracula’s shoulders and his hands carded through that raven hair.

Dracula was looking up at Alucard. It was still a bit of a mindfuck, not only that Dracula was shorter than both Geralt and Alucard, but how little the master vampire seemed to care about it. Given the sheer power that he controlled, the mastery in every action he took, Dracula’s presence dominated a room. Geralt kept expecting him to be taller than he was. Even now, Dracula let his head rest against the carved headboard and just watched Alucard above him, his dark red eyes unreadable to Geralt.

“You have reached a balance,” Alucard said softly, shifting slightly in Dracula’s lap. “You don’t need to do anything more.”

“You mean I _can’t_ ,” Dracula said unexpectedly fiercely. “I can’t do anything more. I _can not die_.” His words turned heated, a snarl on his face. Geralt could feel the pinpricks of Dracula’s power raising up the air around them, before everything stilled just as abruptly as it came. “...yet I can not live, either.”

Alucard curled himself lower, all but cradling Dracula’s head in his arms.

“I am sorry,” Alucard whispered. “I would have given you what you desire, if I could.”

Geralt could hear the truth of Alucard’s words, the shivery pain of them. Alucard would have done it, would have ended Dracula’s existence if there was a way he knew of, never mind that it would have broken his heart.

“No one can grant me death any more.” Dracula’s low, even voice descended into the cold rage that Geralt tasted in his power. “It was His will that made it so, and it is my vengeance to forever be a thorn in His side for it.”

Alucard was bent so low now that his forehead pressed against Dracula’s.

“I don’t want you in pain,” Alucard whispered. 

Dracula was silent for a while, one hand tracing along the bumps of Alucard’s spine.

“You have made it better,” he said after a moment. “It’s easier when you are near.”

“I brought you on to this road.”

“You asked,” Dracula corrected almost gently. “Nobody forced me to agree.”

“But…”

“Drink from me,” Dracula cut Alucard’s protest off. “I took a lot from you today.” His hand inched up under the messy white hair to rest on the nape of Alucard’s neck. “Drink.”

Geralt swallowed, wide awake now, and watched as Dracula tilted his head to the side, exposing his neck. It wasn’t a submissive gesture, not like it was on Alucard. There was a kind of fiercely excited fire burning in his eyes, a challenge in the line of his jaw as he made himself available. Geralt realized that he had been munched on plenty during the night and he’d seen Alucard being bitten multiple times, but he hadn’t seen Alucard eat anything but those few pieces of bread at the feast. Alucard hadn’t drank from Geralt or from anybody else that whole time. He wondered, suddenly intrigued, if Dracula was the only one Alucard ever fed on?

“I don’t need it yet,” Alucard protested and Dracula snorted, irritable and somehow offended at the same time.

“If I let you choose when you feed, you would be back to looking like the bleached of color wraith you used to be.”

“I wasn’t so bad,” Alucard demurred.

“Your lips were black,” Dracula shot back, jerking his chin up. “Now do it, before I find a more creative way to fill you up on what you need.”

Alucard huffed but said nothing, leaning his head to Dracula’s neck.

Geralt watched, mesmerised as Alucard bit down. It was nothing like Dracula’s bite. The older vampire loved the act, Geralt was sure of it. There was joy and obvious relish in how he pressed his fangs into Geralt’s flesh, animalistic glee in how he tore open Alucard’s neck. 

What Geralt saw now was nothing like that. Alucard was careful, oh so careful, as he opened up a vein. His fangs went in slow and smooth, breaking a vein so cleanly that Geralt only realized it was done by the way he heard Alucard swallowing and how his heartbeat sped up. He rocked gently into Dracula, in time with his long pulls of blood, and Dracula only pulled him tighter into his lap. One hand was at Alucards neck, holding him close, and the other was on his hip, keeping him even closer. 

Under the quiet sucking sounds Geralt could just faintly hear how Alucard’s breathing changed, how the tiniest whine escaped him. His previously loose arms were now just a line of corded muscles. The hands that were rested on Dracula’s shoulders before now dug hard into the curve of his father’s muscles. Given the obvious pleasure he felt, Geralt wondered if Alucard was hard, too. 

The scene laid out before him was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen that didn’t actually involve sex. The way Alucard gave himself into the feeding, the tiny noises he made, and how tightly Dracula held him. The small shudders that ran down Alucard’s back as he leaned into the feeding. The careful way that Dracula’s fingers curved around his lover, urging him to take all he needed. Even the scent of blood and power that filled the air was reminiscent of their earlier activities. 

Geralt wanted to look away. He thought he probably _should_ , anyways. This was a private moment that he had not been invited to watch. But their endless, soul binding love sparked something inside of him. Wistfulness mixed with envy and longing, and it filled up his head and his heart. They had something he never would, and the loss ached within him. Overshadowing that was the fierce gladness he felt at seeing them. What they had was precious, and Geralt’s stupid, romantic heart was savagely happy to see it. He found himself eager to bring mayhem to any who might harm their precious union. 

On top of all that was appreciation for just how fucking beautiful they both were. By now, Geralt had a very intimate understanding of exactly how wonderful that embrace felt. His body ached with the memory of Dracula’s mouth on his neck, pulling both blood and pleasure out of him, the sharp feel of those teeth, and the soft lips over them. How their hands held him tight, just as Dracula was holding Alucard now.

He shouldn’t look, but he did anyways. Like a starving man staring at a feast through a glass window. 

His eyes followed the hand on Alucard’s hip, how it guided him to slowly rut into Dracula’s lap. That lovely, muscular back and how it curved into where Dracula cradled Alucard’s neck, fingers tangled in that thick mane of hair. He watched how Alucard’s jaw worked, drinking, sucking down all that precious liquid, the only part of his face that Geralt could even see.

Which was when he noticed that Dracula was watching him, watching them. 

It was clear that he’d been observing Geralt for more than a moment, and Geralt had the sinking suspicion that Dracula had seen everything that had run through his mind. Certainly he hadn’t thought to school his features. Hell, he could barely think enough to move in general, and Dracula was uncommonly perceptive on top of that. But there was no anger or irritation in Dracula’s eyes, only curiosity.

Geralt kept his gaze steady. If Dracula wanted to read his heart, then let him. He had nothing to hide. If Dracula read lust in his eyes, well, they were both painfully beautiful and Geralt was not ashamed for wanting to see more. If Dracula saw the envy or the hurt or the longing, that, too, was no doubt completely unsurprising. Who wouldn’t crave what they shared? More importantly, Geralt hoped that Dracula saw the protectiveness, the need to fight and keep the little flickers of love alive, because they were what made life worth living. Not only that, but Geralt didn’t see their love as something to be used against them. To be honest, he’d probably kill anyone who tried.

And if, deep down in Geralt’s heart, he found himself loving these two a little himself, well. That was between him and his heart. He’d happily take whatever short night of pleasure that they offered and still think himself the luckiest man alive. Even if it meant that he’d live the rest of his life knowing what he was missing once he went back home.

It took a long time for Alucard to stop drinking from Dracula. The older vampire seemed content to sit there petting Alucard, letting him drain him slowly. Alucard’s grinding slowed down, becoming less coordinated, less tense, until finally he was just draped over Dracula’s shoulder, licking more than drinking at the wound he created. 

When he pulled up, Geralt could see the wound in Dracula’s neck. It was nothing more than just two puncture marks sluggishly oozing blood as Alucard licked it away with small kitten licks. 

Geralt wanted, suddenly, to go there and join Alucard, put his tongue to Dracula’s neck and lick. Over the wounds, soothing the pain. Over Alucard’s tongue, too, tasting how they tasted together. 

His body was completely not up for it. He was filthy with blood, come, and oil drying on his skin, and he ached. Every move made him aware of the pulsing ache of his hole, the oversensitivity of his own dick that made it impossible to touch. The very air touching it felt like too much, every little current pulling out a soundless whimper from him. 

He couldn’t do a thing, but it didn’t change the fact he wanted to. Wanted to taste them, taste Dracula, see what made him react the most. 

During the whole incredible encounter, Dracula was the one that kept himself so totally in control that it blew Geralt’s mind. He was patient, methodical, and ruthless, breaking both Geralt and Alucard with his merciless resolve. 

The experience was overwhelming. He was usually one to top, to caress and lick, to bring pleasure to his partners before seeking his own. This absolute change of roles was more than a little surprising, yet exciting on a level he never expected from himself. 

Geralt couldn’t deny the heat coiling low in his belly at the memory of Dracula’s voice rumbling filthy promises into his ear. At the phantom sensation of Dracula’s hard dick inside him, fucking him over and over as if he could do it endlessly, never losing his control, just reducing Geralt to nothing but a hungry hole. 

He exhaled slowly, letting go of that train of thought before he tried to make his body do something it definitely wasn’t up for. 

Dracula was still watching him, dark red eyes unreadable. Yet somehow he got the impression that Dracula still saw everything. That knowing gaze scorched him in almost the same way that Dracula’s come shooting inside of him did. 

He shivered. 

Dracula lowered his lids in a slow blink, exhaling gently, and finally pulled Alucard away from his already healed neck. The younger vampire’s eyes were glassy and there was a distinct flush on his cheeks, travelling down his pale, long neck, and onto the wide expanse of his chest. He went easily, bonelessly, with Dracula’s directions, and his body all but slid out of Dracula’s grasp like liquid. Alucard was high as a kite, Geralt realized; drunk on power and blood. 

He slid down to the bed, rolling this way and that before he smushed his face into Dracula’s thigh. Then he wrapped his arms around it and cuddled up to that powerful muscle as Dracula watched him fondly. Alucard shifted again, made a grumpy little sound and huffed, displeased with his cuddling partner, or perhaps just the shape of what he was holding. 

“Alucard,” Dracula said gently, untangling the clingy arms from his leg. He pushed his arms under his totally sauced son and pulled. “Come on.” 

With a ridiculous show of strength, Dracula heaved Alucard’s long form up into his arms with barely any leverage. Alucard made a grumpy noise but snuggled up into Dracula’s chest, doing his best to tuck his head under Dracula’s chin. But he was too tall and the position was just bad for it, so he didn’t get anywhere. Geralt watched, amused and strangely moved, at the uncoordinated pawing and the displeased huffing that was going on. Dracula rose up on his knees and shuffled across the enormous bed, closer to Geralt. 

“What?” Geralt asked in surprise as Dracula lowered his armful of squirmy, completely high vampire halfway on top of Geralt. 

“He wants to be held,” Dracula explained as they both watched as Alucard, with his eyes already mostly closed, figured out there was another warm body in reach. He made a pleased, little growling sound as he snuffed at Geralt’s arm before rolling himself closer. This time he successfully tucked his head under Geralt's chin and pressed his cold nose into Geralt's neck while his arms sneaked around Geralt’s chest. A few more shuffles and Alucard’s leg was worming itself between Geralt’s own, tangling their bodies together as much as possible. 

More on instinct than any conscious thought, Geralt turned into Alucard, wrapping him in his arms and shifting him closer. This made it so that Alucard was snuggled in tight against Geralt’s chest and Geralt could close his arms tightly around the younger vampire. 

A bloom of fierce, almost painful pleasure filled up his chest at the utterly trusting way Alucard lay there. His breathing and heartbeat suggesting he was mostly asleep already. The mass of white hair spilling over Geralt’s shoulder and arm was warm, like an incredibly beautiful and expensive quilt. Alucard’s weight on him merely served to anchor Geralt in this moment, in the unexpected sweetness of it. 

He was a protector, by nature and by nurture. He was meant to do so at all costs. Being needed, having somebody give himself into his protection so sweetly was one of the things Geralt craved the most. He it feared the most at the same time, because it was so easily taken away. 

“Why…” he started, confused about why would Dracula give up such a precious treasure as this sweet and cuddly version of Alucard. 

“You looked like you knew how to hold him.” Dracula reached out. The nails on his hand had shrunk back to normal length, though they were still black. He slowly smoothed out the messy, white curls sticking up every which way, pulling them away from where they were tickling Geralt’s face like mad. 

“There’s very little softness left in me,” Dracula said with a wistful tone. 

_Bullshit_ , Geralt thought. _Utter and complete bullshit._

Dracula looked back at Geralt with soft, red eyes. He repeated the same gesture on Geralt, pushing his shorter, yet equally messy, hair away from his face. It made Geralt’s eyes flutter, and he turned his head into the movement. Dracula leaned down; his hand was still warm and strong against the side of Geralt’s face. They were so close their lips were almost touching. 

“I wanted to see if could fuck you unconscious,” Dracula whispered. His voice was low and so filthy Geralt choked on his own breath. “And after, I wanted to see if I could fuck you conscious again.” The soft lips brushed his, the moist breath fanning his face with every word. “I wanted to hear the sounds you would make then, coming to on my dick.”

“Fuck.” Geralt’s curse was breathy, and his spent, oversensitive cock gave one valiant twitch that was almost more pain than pleasure. But Geralt was a witcher and their relationship with pain was not like a normal person's. Pain was no limit for them, and barely a consideration. 

He licked his lips, insanely considering telling Dracula to do it, go for it. To spread Geralt’s legs again and fuck him because gods knew he was close to passing out anyway. He had never gained consciousness on somebody’s dick before, certainly not somebody who fucked quite like Dracula. “I’m already plenty broken, but…” he started, all good sense leaving him, but Dracula interrupted. 

“Let’s not wake Alucard,” Dracula veered off and mouthed at Geralt’s jaw. “Besides, no, you are not yet broken enough.”

Geralt had no idea if that was a promise or a threat. He didn't think he cared either way.

Exhaustion dragged at him. It was easy to close his gritty eyes and tilt his jaw up into Dracula’s wet mouth. Alucard was warm and perfect in his arms, clinging to him in ways that made his heart feel like it would burst. Any moment he would fall back into his meditative sleep-like state, he was sure.

But those soft wet kisses moved down to Geralt’s throat and there was just a hint of fang against his skin. Echoes of the pleasure they shared earlier shuddered through him. The feeling of those sharp, dangerous teeth scraping against his veins woke warring instincts in him. A lifetime of fighting monsters made his arms twitch to grab for weapons, especially since he wasn’t currently in the throes of passion. Some tooth action in bed wasn’t unusual for him, but now, when he was already so sore and spent, sharp teeth at his neck made his battle hardened instincts scream. At the same time he wanted to turn into it, let Dracula feed, and let them both experience ecstasy again; that sweet hot sucking that dragged pleasure out of him in time with the beating of his heart.

“You hold Alucard so well,” Dracula rumbled against his skin. “Satisfying both his needs and your own. But I wonder, can you handle my attentions too? Can you keep us both sated?”

By the Gods, he wanted to try. The tiniest, softest whine escaped from Geralt’s throat, but that was all he had the energy for. Just holding Alucard close had spent what little strength he’d recovered from his short rest. 

Dracula continued to nip and lick at his throat, tormenting him with the promise of what those little scratches meant. Little shivers broke out across his body, and he could feel Dracula’s hands roaming over him. The shivering turned to outright shudders when the fingernails on those hands grew back into sharp claws. They trailed over his legs and up his back, careful to never break skin but still leaving lines of fire behind nonetheless. 

“Oh!” Geralt gasped quietly, and his body arched up. If it was to get away or lean into the marks, he wasn’t sure. Even those delicate little scrapes were overwhelming him with sensation; the pleasure of being so thoroughly caressed was chased by pinprick pain. Alucard’s soft, sleeping body to his front was a stark contrast to the thrillingly dangerous torture that Dracula lavished on the rest of him. It made his head swim as he struggled. His body twitched softly and his breath burned in his chest.

When those deadly claws slid down his still slick ass and traced lightly at his swollen rim, Geralt nearly screamed. The touch was so careful that those razor talons didn’t even leave a scratch, but just the threat of it left Geralt struggling to move and made his cock twitch painfully. The hard flats of the nails pressing firmly into his abused flesh, and the single, wicked point that carefully dipped inside his sloppy wet hole all left him hot and wanting again. The control it took to pleasure him with such dangerous features was ridiculously attractive, and the trust Geralt had, the knowledge that he wouldn’t be hurt beyond his ability to heal, no matter what his instincts screamed, left him gasping.

“Shhhh,” Dracula said softly. His teeth nipped at Geralt’s spine. “Alucard needs to rest.”

The comment made Geralt want to laugh and cry at the same time. That _asshole_.

Impossible though it seemed, Geralt fought to master himself, to stay still against those thrilling, dangerous, arousing little touches. Despite the fangs at his neck and the claws at his hole reminding him of both incredible pleasure and unbelievable danger, Geralt slowed his breathing. He forced himself to take even measured breaths and tried to settle the thundering beat of his heart. He couldn’t seem to stop the trembling shudders that Dracula’s explorations induced, but he was able to keep himself from crying out in want and shock.

“That’s it. Let me take you in whatever way I want,” Dracula whispered. “Hold us both.”

Geralt couldn’t help but nod, accepting, _wanting_ everything they could give. 

The soft teasing slowed to a lazy pace. It was just enough to keep Geralt awake and shuddering as Alucard slept on, safe and happy in Geralt’s arms. 

How long it lasted, Geralt couldn’t say. All he could feel was sharp claws and cold teeth on his skin, and sweet smelling hair and a warm body in his arms. 

Even his stamina had to give out eventually, and Geralt drifted off. Or maybe he passed out. All he knew was that he came to with a jerk, feeling the sudden warmth around his feet. 

He flinched again, startled, only to realize he was being held. Or rather, he was being lowered into the lovely smelling baths. He blinked muzzily up at the person holding him. Raven hair and the careful goatee. Dracula. He was lowering Geralt into the water with the same kind of ease Geralt saw him pick up Alucard with, as if the weight was nothing to him.

Geralt groaned at the sensation of the warm water wrapping around his legs. Instead of minerals, the water definitely smelled more strongly of herbs; the familiar scent was as soothing as the heat was. Then he was mostly in, sitting on the submerged ledge. The warmth sank into him slowly, relaxing his sore muscles and easing out the itch of drying come all over him. 

Geralt blinked and tried to keep his heavy eyelids up for a little longer but his body was very clearly done cooperating with him. He slipped into a doze while the water work magic on his sore muscles and other places that pulsed and ached from overuse.

When he woke, he didn’t have the faintest idea how much time passed. He was still in the bath, and his head was pillowed on a folded towel just on the edge of the stone basin. His hair was wet and loose around his face and smelled faintly of flowers. The idea that he was limp and insensate as somebody washed his hair sat a little uneasy with him, bringing his heart rate up before he calmed down again. After what he let happen to him in the last who knew how many hours, some hair washing that may or may not have actually happened seemed inconsequential.

The water felt good, even against his still burning hole, and Geralt relaxed against the edge of the bathing pool again, all but drifting away. However much sleep he got, it wasn’t enough. He wasn't really tracking what the vampires were doing, content instead to drift in the warm water and wait for his body to recover.

He noticed Dracula coming towards him. The water reached just above his belly with the small waves his approach caused. Out of the three of them, Dracula looked the best. Even Alucard resting as he was off to side still looked wrecked for all that all the marks were healed on him already. But Dracula seemed untouched. His impossible stamina and magic erased all evidence of what happened before. It was sad, somehow, that Dracula wouldn’t carry physical marks of their encounters.

Under the water, Dracula reached for Geralt’s knees and pushed them apart with an easy, possessive grip, stepping in between them before Geralt managed to rouse himself enough to respond. Now that Dracula was there, Geralt let himself drift off again. The sensation of the smooth skin of Dracula’s hip against Geralt’s knee was was pleasant and soothing.

Dracula leaned one hand on the edge of the pool, hovering over Geralt’s face. The tips of his hair were wet already and the ends brushed against Geralt’s face like cool, little licks.

“One more?” he asked, but Geralt could tell it was a rhetorical question. Dracula’s other hand was already sliding against the inside of his thigh. He gently brushed the tired and trembling muscles there before curling around Geralt’s balls for a moment, and then sliding lower. Two of his fingers found Geralt’s obscenely stretched out hole and slid in. 

There was no resistance whatsoever; the fingers went all the way in with barely any trouble. Geralt hitched a surprised breath as zings of sensation and out right pain washed over him. He was so painfully sensitive there. His flesh was so swollen he didn’t even know what he was feeling. 

It felt good, those fingers, but it also hurt, registering even above his insanely high pain threshold. It also felt right. After being fingered and fucked for hours, after having two men putting their dicks in him, Geralt felt really odd _not_ having something inside him anymore. 

He squirmed, still too lethargic to do much, as his mind replayed the threats and filthy things Dracula whispered into his skin. He remembered how the older vampire wanted to fuck him back to consciousness. A soft whimper escaped him, and he caught himself thinking it would break him, kill him, if anybody fucked him right now but oh, he so wanted to find out.

“Can’t,” Geralt croaked out. He was fairly sure even magic wouldn't get his cock hard again, not after they fucked him right into unconsciousness already. “Won’t get hard again.” He found himself, ridiculously regretting that fact. As if he could even stand one more fuck right now.

“It’s alright.” Dracula pressed himself lower so their chests were flush together. His hard muscles pressing down on Geralt, and their lips were so close they were almost touching. “You don’t need to be hard to come again,” Dracula said softly. Then he breached that final distance and kissed Geralt; his tongue licked in deeply while Geralt opened up to let him, feeling too uncoordinated to do much else.

The fingers inside him twisted, curling up and touching that spot inside him that sent a sharp zing of pleasure to his balls and cock. Geralt’s breath hitched and he squirmed, unsure if he could stand the sensation at all. His cock felt so sensitive, almost painful, and it tingled even from just the feel of the water around it. 

But Dracula kept circling his fingers against that spot; slow, insistent circles that kept building the heat up and up. Geralt clutched at his arm, feeling the hard muscles and slowly flexing tendons working as he fingered Geralt. His mind started to blank out from the feel of it, and he sat there, frozen, unsure of what he wanted to do. His balls kept pulling up though, twitching at the insistent zings of pleasure. Each circle of Dracula’s fingers only pushed the tension higher. 

Geralt broke the kiss, panting and dizzy, so he could look down himself. Under the slight cloudiness of the mineral water, he could see the plump, soft curve of his dick resting against his belly, limp and exhausted. Despite that, he could also feel the tension curling around his belly and the way his balls kept pulling up ever so slowly. He moaned, surprised by his body and what Dracula was doing to it.

“Give in,” Dracula whispered against his ear, his dark hair falling all over Geralt’s face. “I won’t stop until I get what I want. You just need to lay here and _take it_ , Geralt.”

The words, the touch inside him, and the little shocks of painful oversensitivity were too much. Pleasure was building and building, seemingly with no way out. Dracula seemed unhurried, though. Perfectly willing to do this for hours if needed, uncaring and unheeding of Geralt’s exhaustion or of his body limits. 

He wanted Geralt to come and so Geralt would, sooner or later. 

Geralt whimpered, turned on beyond reason at that realization. At the inescapable fact that he would be made to come, whether he liked it or not. 

He held onto Dracula. If it was for minutes or hours, he couldn't even say. All the while he looked down his body in endless fascination. He could see the way Dracula’s tendons tensed and released as he worked his had inside Geralt. Watched the rhythmic flex of his powerful biceps and burning red eyes watching him in turn. 

He saw his completely soft dick start leaking come in rhythm to the little presses against that spot inside him. A pleasure so deep, so intense that it took the last reasonable thought out of his mind rolled over him as his orgasm hit. 

The thing was, it wasn't stopping. Unlike anything he felt before, it just kept coming. Wave after wave to the same rhythm as the circles Dracula was pressing inside him, measured and powerful. He came again and again, as wave after wave of pleasure so intense it was painful crashed over him, until he had to sob and beg for it to stop before he went insane.

“Please,” he begged, still clutching at the arm working him. “No more. _Please_.” He was crying, probably, because Dracula was licking at his tightly closed eyes. Dracula’s fingers were still inside his aching, burning hole and Geralt was still weakly clenching down on them, milking them in helpless aftershocks of orgasm. He pulled his fingers out and helped Geralt close his aching thighs, his body still wrecked by random shivers.

“So pretty.” Dracula was pressing kisses to Geralt’s cheeks. “So brave,” he whispered, petting Geralt’s side and soothing away the aftershocks. “You did so good, so very good.”

It was the last thing Geralt heard before he slipped into darkness of unconsciousness.

\--

There was a knife at his throat.

It only took a split second for Geralt to go from completely unconscious to upright and moving. The world roared around him as he looked this way and that, his heart pounding in his chest and his teeth bared in an instinctual snarl. Without even thinking about it, his hands had moved into summoning a sign, Aard and Quen together, and in under a heartbeat he was both shielded and the area around him was cleared of anything, shards of something wooden smushed against the wall to his left. 

He panted. The room was still blurry as his eyes desperately tried to adjust to the dim light. Nothing was attacking him. But there was a knife at his throat? He shook his head, noting that his face felt odd. There was something on him. Where were his swords? He fucking slept with his swords, they should be right _there_. 

More details filtered in to his addled brain. Clean, cold stone was under his feet, strangely soothing. The air smelled fresh, like flowers and soap and water. There was a tang of fur and fire, too, layered under it. 

Nothing was attacking him.

His whole body suddenly ached. Geralt shook his head again and blinked. In front of him, on the far end of the room was a massive wolf, unnaturally large in fact. 

It was crouching lightly but it wasn’t growling. It was merely watching him warily, golden eyes glowing eerily.

 _Alucard,_ his brain finally supplied him. 

Geralt let his arms drop, and ran one hand over his face, his body shaking from the sudden waking and adrenaline rush. His face was wet? He stared at his hand for a moment, still muzzy from his sudden panic. 

Soap. That was some kind of foamy soap on his hand and face. At least on one side of his face. 

“Fuck,” he said quietly, and hung his head. He wanted to drop to the ground, sit down, something, but his body was still tense, still ready to fight whatever perceived threat that had woken him up. The best he could do was simply stand there with his jaw and fists clenched in an effort to stop the shaking, deafened by the beat of his own heart. He closed his eyes and tried to shuffle everything into a scenario that made sense. 

Geralt was in Dracula’s castle. Dracula and Alucard had spent who knew how long fucking him into oblivion, and then he’d passed out in the baths, wrapped in Dracula’s arms. Whatever his body had reacted to wasn’t something dangerous. It couldn’t be with the castle still standing and no Dracula wreaking havoc on everything in sight. 

He forced himself to think that over a few times. This wasn’t dangerous. They wouldn’t hurt him, or at least not in any way he didn’t want. 

Shame burned through him for a moment, and he risked a peek up to where Alucard sat crouched across the room. He’d attacked his lover, without even thinking of it, before his mind was even properly awake. He shuddered again. This was why witchers weren’t safe for normal people. After all the fighting and blood and death, everything was a fight for him. It was just ingrained. He always made sure not to fall asleep next to his partners, or at least made sure to wake before they did, for just this reason.

He shook himself, trying to settle down and only marginally succeeding. 

“I’m sorry, pretty wolf,” he said hoarsely, his face still burning from his foolish move. It was just damn, bloody luck that he happened to be with someone who wouldn’t take any harm from his startled waking.

Geralt took a step backwards, then another, until he felt the cold wall behind him. It helped ground him in the moment. He pictured the solid, immovable rock soaking into him, and let that image settle his heart and breath.

When he looked up again, Alucard was just a step away. His coarse fur shined in the dim light. It was tempting to try and reach out and touch it, to hold him tight until Geralt caught his breath. But Geralt had attacked him, without warning, and probably without provocation. Now was not the time for uninvited touching. He couldn’t stand the thought of further offending the young vampire. 

“Why are you still a wolf?” Geralt asked, mustering up a strained grin. “Or a horse shaped like a wolf anyway because damn, you are huge.”

The wolf’s ears swivelled towards him and then sideways, resting oddly at an angle giving him the most ridiculous look of embarrassed changriment. Then he moved forward. His claws clicked on the stone floor as he came up to Geralt, his head easily reaching Geralt’s shoulder, and sniffed at Geralt’s face.

Then promptly sneezed. Probably at the smell of the soap.

Geralt wrinkled his nose, eyes closed tightly against the spray. “I deserved that.” He wiped his hand down his face, rubbing his eyes clear.

The wolf huffed, ears pricked adorably forward. Even the dagger long fangs didn’t detract from what Geralt could tell was amusement. 

Almost against his will, Geralt leaned forward a bit. The need to be close was overwhelming, and completely circumvented his better sense. The massive body moved to meet him, leaning against him hard enough Geralt had to brace himself against the wall or be moved by accident. A little laugh escaped from him and he cuddled into Alucard’s warm body. 

“Such a kind, forgiving, pretty wolf. How did I get so lucky?” Geralt purred into Alucard’s fur. Those beautiful ears were just as plush as he thought they might be, and he dug his fingers in to scratch around their base. Held there, safely between the hard wall and the mountain of fur and teeth in front of him, Geralt’s body finally got the message and relaxed. The last tremor left him and his heart settled down. 

They stayed there for a moment or two longer, and then Alucard stepped back. His form shifted into blue, ghostly energy and then it settled back into his human form.

“Sorry,” Geralt said again, sheepish. He rubbed a hand at the back of his neck and studied the floor. Which was about the moment he realized that he was still naked.

Because of course he was.

He sighed. It wasn’t the first time he’d had to fight completely nude, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. No doubt that’s why the lack of clothes didn’t even register. 

“I was trying to shave you,” Alucard said, abashed. “You didn’t wake up when we brought you here from the bath, or when we dried you. I didn’t think you would wake up. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Geralt winced, and looked around at the broken furniture; the wreckage was the inevitable side effect of his brief panic. “Not your fault. I think I felt the knife. And, well,” he grimaced. “I’m afraid I have some bad habits. Not really housebroken.”

Alucard cast him a glance that he could only classify as coy.

“All the more interesting for it.”

That brought out another laugh from Geralt. “Oh, if only more people thought like you. Remind me to tell you about the Lady Elanna and her not-so forgiving husband.” He grinned and shook his head, casting his gaze off into the distance. Fuck, he’d lost half his gear in that little mess, and got poison ivy rashes in places he’d rather not remember during his daring escape from her bedroom. “Word to the wise, never trust garden trellises. They are not as sturdy as they look, and not all people grow things as benign as flowers.”

“I was married at sixteen, didn’t get the chance to perfect my escaping out of a maid’s window technique.”

That made Geralt perk up. It was fascinating to hear more about Alucard’s past, and he recognized it for the gift that it was. “Yeah?”

“It was normal to be married at that age, back in my times.”

“I will never be wed,” Geralt said. “Witchers aren’t…wanted. We’re orphans, mutated by magic to become what we are.” He grinned at waved a hand at himself. “The ideal hunter. Immune to disease, enhanced in all ways. Sterile. No one wants to spend their life with a freak that has no future.” The words were said without pain, or even bitterness. It was just fact, and one he’d accepted a long, long time ago.

There were things passing through Alucards face. Some he understood, like anger and regret, but others he wasn’t sure he read right.

“I would have preferred to be made sterile,” Alucard said gently. “I was taken from my mother on the day of my birth, the Brotherhood of Light telling her of the prophecy that proclaimed my Father would become a monster. They bred our line like one breeds hunting dogs, getting a kid out of us as soon as possible and sequestering it far away while sending the unfortunate father to battle an impossible war with Dracula. I had a son that I had to watch suffer this cursed existence of the Belmonts. While I do not believe you to be unwanted or undeserving of family, just passing your blood on is nothing you should devalue yourself about. You are an amazing man Geralt, amazing enough to catch my Father's attention in ways no human had in thousands of years.”

Rage, bright and incandescent, burned through Geralt at hearing what happened to Alucard and his family. Those bastards. How fucking dare they treat anyone like that, especially children? The thought quickly burned itself out, because Geralt realized just as quickly that Dracula must have burned those fools to the ground for what they did to his family. He let the feeling slip away, and simply promised himself that if he ever ran into an offshoot of this Brotherhood of the Light, that he’d have a fine time hunting them to extinction. Besides, Alucard didn’t need his rage or upset. This was ancient history for him. 

Instead, he focused on the thoughts of family, and the fine compliment. A bit of a blush spread across his face. 

“Ha, well. I’m not totally without family. I can’t have children, probably would be shit at raising them anyways, but Ciri. She’s my adopted daughter.” He smiled fondly. “She trained as a witcher for a while, but our magics are gone, lost years ago when our stronghold was attacked and destroyed, she couldn’t attempt the Trials that would have enhanced her. Probably for the better anyways, given the success rate of the Trials. She takes after her mother, though, with the magic. So she’s trained as a sorceress, too. Damn good at it.”

“Daughter,” Alucard said with a bit of wonder to his voice.

“Yeah. She was such a surprise, never thought anything like her would happen to me. Half the time I’m so proud of her I could burst. The other half I’m just scared shitless something will happen to her because she always gets into the worst possible trouble.” A warm smile crossed over Geralt’s face. If there was a hint of ruefulness in it, he thought it could be forgiven. 

“There has never been a girl born to the Belmont line, I would have no idea what to do with a girl child,” Alucard said. Then he blinked. “Also, the irony must burn something fierce.”

Geralt laughed and sagged back against the wall. “Trust me, I didn’t have the faintest idea either. Why else do you think I had her running witcher obstacle courses, teaching her swordwork and pirouettes? Triss says that I deserve every scrap she’s ever gotten into, like some kind of cosmic revenge for every damn fool thing I stumbled through.”

Alucard’s face was soft but also sad.

“I realize my advice is probably not something you want to consider especially relevant, but please, try to love her and don't ever regret having her. For the longest time I regretted ever having a son, cursed myself for bringing all this pain on him, and me by extension.”

“Why would I regret Ciri?” Geralt asked, baffled.

Aucard looked incredibly sad then, stricken almost.

“I’m sorry, Geralt,” he whispered.

“For what?”

Alucard extended his hand and put it on Geralt’s neck, warm and gentle, as if bracing Geralt.

“You will outlive her.”

Geralt shook his head.

“No, no. Witcher healing is ramped up yes, but she has elven blood in her. She will live a long life.”

Alucard shook his head, eyes still sad.

“You will outlive her,” he repeated. He licked his lips and spoke again. “Her lifespan might be long,” he agreed, “but it’s still mortal.”

“Witchers are mortal,” Geralt huffed. “Aren't you the one calling me human all the time?”

Alucard put his other hand flat on Geralt’s chest and looked at him with the deepest regret.

“My Father was right about some part of you being demonic in nature, because when you took in the Breath of my Father’s Life into you, your body adapted to it in ways I hadn’t expected. Something in you, in what kind of man you are - powerful and brave, unburdened with hangups - aligned with the power in uniquely compatible ways.”

Geralt gaped for a moment, and tried to wrap his mind around what Alucard was saying. There was some kind of terrible logic to it that his brain refused to grasp.

Alucard was telling him he wouldn’t die. That was crazy. Impossible. This was something he couldn’t afford to misunderstand.

“Tell me. Please, explain.”

“You are not immortal in the sense my Father is, where no damage or amount of time can kill him. I don’t think you have my kind of immortality either, where aging simply is not a factor any more. You will age and most probably eventually die of it, but it will not be in the next hundred years or the next two hundred years, not if what I’m seeing of your regeneration abilities holds true. I can not tell for sure, as you are not my Father’s creation.”

“Give me your best estimation then,” Geralt said, his voice bright with alarm and his mind reeling.

“Maybe four,” Alucard said after a pause. “It will depend on what factors you are exposed to.”

“Four hundred years?” Geralt said weakly, still scrambling to get a gauge on what they were talking about. The sheer scope of it was hard to handle.

“Four _thousand_ ,” Alucard corrected ever so gently.

Geralt grabbed hold of Alucard’s shoulder and leaned in as the world swam around him. Why was he even surprised? He tried to remember that this wasn’t the strangest thing that had ever happened to him. It couldn’t be. Surely. 

“Did you know that I have already died once? Dead and gone, for years.” He closed his eyes and tried to think. He failed. “How I was made. Witchers, we change. We take other magics into ourselves and let it…modify us. We survive. Of all the witchers that were made, I adapted the best, the easiest, and survived experiments that killed all others who attempted them. I should not be surprised that this continues to be true.”

He tried not to think of Ciri growing old, dying. Of whole cities and people and the whole world growing old and strange around him.

“It doesn’t have to be terrible,” Alucard said. “You can let the world pass you by, like my Father does, removed and uncomprehending, or you can live with them like I did, growing alongside them.”

“I like the world too much to leave it entirely,” Geralt said with a touch of humor. “But occasional breaks would be welcome.”

“It doesn’t have to be terrible,” Alucard repeated. “Your daughter will have children of her own, or you will adopt more children.” Alucard swallowed. “And if the worst comes to pass, death is still something that is available to you.”

“To be honest, I never expected to live this long. My life is too dangerous, and I’m too damn reckless. Can’t let some things go, maybe even when I should. Every year I live is still a bit of a surprise.” It was true, too. Geralt had long since lost count of how many times he’d been at death’s door. Living to old age was never a forgone conclusion for him. Not for any witcher, really, but especially not for him.

He let himself take comfort in Alucard’s arms. This was strange, sure, but hardly the worst thing he’d ever heard. It was just a shock. Geralt had weathered worse.

He smiled. “Could be fun, though. Think of all the trouble I could get into.”

“If your arrival here is any indication of the scale of trouble you can stir up, I’m rather worried about your world surviving you, not the other way around,” Alucard murmured with apparent dryness, but the corners of his lips were turning up.

“Is it true then,” Geralt asked suddenly, remembering what he overheard before, “that Dracula can not die?”

Alucard stilled in his arms, and then nodded after a long moment.

“Is that why you hold back with him. Are you afraid of being loved by him? Or are you afraid of leaving him alone?”

“If you knew just _how_ he loved, you would be afraid too.” Alucard turned his head down, long eyelashes spreading on his pale cheeks.

Geralt pursed his lips, thinking hard for a moment. “I wish I could tell you what would work, what would help. Sex, I know.” He smirked. “Fairly well, I’d dare to say. But love...that's a damn sight harder to navigate. But,” he paused to put a finger under Alucard’s chin, lifting his face so they could look eye to eye. “You won’t be alone. A pretty wolf just told me I’m supposed to live a ridiculously long time, so I see no reason why I can’t find my way back here. Worst comes to worse, you’ll have someone to drown your sorrows with. Best case, I can help bring a smile to both of you.”

“You are an incredibly loving person,” Alucard said, hand still on Geralt’s chest. “I could see it in how protective you were of your charge when you arrived, in how protective you were of me, when you thought I could land myself on the wrong end of my Father’s temper for my dalliance with you.” Alucard pressed at Geralt’s chest harder. “It’s not that you were unwanted or unloved,” Alucard said fiercely, “it’s just that all those people were unworthy of you.” He shook his head, hair flying everywhere. “If I asked your daughter, I bet she would say the same.”

A warm, happy glow filled Geralt’s chest. He blinked away the sting in his eyes and captured Alucard’s mouth in a scorching kiss, devouring that sweet taste and exploring in every good way he knew how. Before it could go on too long, he broke away and groaned, dropping his head to Alucard’s shoulder. 

“Gods, when Ciri finds out what I’ve been up to she is gonna give me so much shit,” he said with a groan.

“At least her Father didn’t conquer a different world while she wasn’t looking.” Alucard said with a philosophic shrug. “She’ll probably hold it over your head for the rest of her life, though.”

“Pfft. More like, add it to the collection. Even I don’t keep as complete a list of my past indiscretions as she does. And she’s got this _look_.” He smiled, both fond and exasperated.

“I find it doubtful that a man like you can be quelled by a mere look,” Alucard slid his palms over Geralt’s chest, tracing the hard muscles and then dipping lower to Geralt’s belly, letting himself touch the abdomen Geralt was fairly proud of.

Geralt practically purred into the movement. “It’s possible that I have a soft spot.”

“Just one?” Alucard inched his hands lower, fingers spread, and resting just above the root of Geralt’s cock.

He just shrugged, grinning still. “One or two, perhaps.” His skin tingled where Alucard’s hand rested, and heat coiling in his gut. He bared his teeth a little, his smile growing just a touch feral. “Subject to change, perhaps, depending on the spot.”

“Like this?” Alucard let his hand slip lower and wrapped one cool hand around Geralt’s soft cock, thumb carding back and forth over the base.

“Fuck, the filthy things I want to do to you,” Geralt said with a groan, gently rocking his hips into the contact.

“I decided I apparently have a type,” Alucard said with some chagrin, closing his hand a little more tightly around Geralt, giving him something firmer to thrust against. “Not something I expected of myself, really.”

The heat inside Geralt grew and he felt his cock twitch and begin to fill. He ran a hand through Alucard’s hair, scraping along his scalp, and tightening his grip into a fist. “Everyone has things they like. Nothing wrong with that,” he said softly.

“Going from being faithful to my wife to sleeping with Dracula was an…unexpected adjustment. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised I find you as irresistible. You two are surprisingly alike.” Alucard bent his head and started mouthing at Geralt’s shoulder, licking the skin there as if he wanted to taste Geralt all over again.

“Your wife, Dracula, and me?” Geralt raised his eyebrows in surprise, momentarily startled out of his train of thought. Not that he’d never been with an inexperienced lover, but still, it was a surprise to hear that Alucard had so limited a number of partners. Then he got distracted by how to classify Dracula with his indomitable stamina. Did he really count as one lover or a whole host of them?

“Hmm, yes. Sex isn’t something I usually pay attention to.” Alucard shifted his attention to the bones of Geralt’s collarbone and licked there too for good measure. “Never any time for it anyway.”

Geralt nuzzled into his ear, tracing the delicate point with his tongue. “I hope I made it good for you.”

Alucard smiled against his skin.

“You were really good.” Alucard molded himself closer against Geralt, more cuddling than caressing and spoke into his skin again. “You did so many things to me that felt good, I loved every minute of it.” He let go of Geralt’s cock and instead put his hands on his hips. “And you are a great cuddler.”

More than the hands on him, that praise made Geralt heat up and smile. He wrapped his arms around Alucard, holding him tight, reveling in the warm body against him and the soft mane of hair in his fingers. “I’m so glad.” 

“I knew I would be safe in your hands, that moment you refrained from raising your blade at the guards. I could tell then, that you would take care of any lover you had with everything you had.” Alucard laughed. “Granted, I thought the sorceress in your arms was your lover.”

Geralt laughed, and shook his head. Alucard certainly wasn’t the only one who made that assumption upon seeing him and Ciri together. “She has a whole speech about how she’d sooner cut off my dick than touch it.”

“No,” Alucard gasped in mock outrage, hand flying down to cover Geralt’s dick protectively. “Not your dick! Can’t she go for something less useful?”

That made Geralt laugh harder, and he kissed a line up Alucard’s jaw. Just seeing Alucard so relaxed and playful was a gift, and he was thoroughly pleased, no matter what they were joking about. “Trust me, I object strenuously to the whole idea.”

“You better.” Alucard leaned in for a short kiss, laughing again. “As pretty a man as you are, you either need to let me finish what I started or finish it yourself because right now you just look funny,” Alucard said looking at Geralt’s face, a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips.

“What were you even using to shave me?” Geralt asked, looking around the debris, trying to figure out what set him off so badly.

Alucard went to the bed, shifted the tussled bedding and extracted a wicked looking hunting knife with jeweled handle. It was as long as Alucard’s forearm.

“It’s the sharpest one I have,” Alucard murmured looking abashedly at the weapon in his hand.

“Ooooh, I love a man with a large blade,” Geralt said with a smirk, pretending he hadn’t just freaked out about it. “You gonna stick it in me?” He wiggled his eyebrows.

Alucard rolled his eyes at him.

“I have other things I would prefer to stick into you than this blade,” he let his hand fall, “but the fact remains you are only half shaved and while I love your hair, the white beard is just awful.”

Geralt slapped his hand to his face and felt around. Under the remnants of the soap he could definitely tell that one side of his face was smooth as a baby’s butt while the other sported a few days growth.

“You seriously got half of me before I woke up?”

Alucard nodded. “It’s why I thought you wouldn’t wake up if you hadn’t yet. Looking back, your body was probably busy healing so it kept you deeper asleep than normal.”

“Is there a mirror here?” Geralt asked, looking around the room.

Alucard sighed and went to the opposite wall where a huge tapestry was hanging; on it was the image of a beautiful dragon made of shadows and embers hovering over a castle. Only a tiny bit of the battlements were depicted. More attention was paid to the innumerable knights surrounding the castle, their battle fires, and war machines ominously highlighted in red. Each little figure, tiny in comparison to the whole image, was perfectly recreated. Their armor glinted with silver and gold, and Geralt could actually see the dirt and soot that tarnishing its finish. 

The dragon was beautiful thing, a creature of darkness and rage. It had a long snout that was opened in a scream, and red eyes that trailed light, like fire in its wake. The wide spread of its wings gave the perfect impression that it was beating them furiously as it ascended over the battlefield. It was a specter of death, and its fearsome visage was unsettling, even displayed in art. There was no doubt that it would destroy any who stood before it. On the left side of the piece, Geralt noticed that the soldiers were already dead. Their armor broken and scattered, and their bodies bleeding rivers of blood. A shiver of unease ghosted its way over Geralt’s body as he took in the absolute devastation shown there. It was a beautiful work, no doubt, but it was also a rather uncomfortable piece to behold.

“It happened over a thousand years ago, when the Brotherhood of Light decided to storm the castle with all they had. They brought a holy weapon with them, hoping to use it to kill my Father.” Alucard touched his hand to the corner of the rich tapestry. “For all their knowledge they forgot that my Father was God’s chosen one first. It's a little ridiculous don't you think? Lord of Shadows being capable of casting Holy spells as easily as he wraps himself in shadows.”

Geralt ripped his eyes away from the terrible scene of death, and focused on Alucard. While this was just a piece of art to Geralt, it was obvious that Alucard had more intimate knowledge of that day, and it weighed heavily on him.

“You were there.” 

He got a slow nod. “I spoke with my Father afterwards. We reached an accord that led us to...how we are now.” 

For a moment, Geralt was at a loss. He decided to wait it out, see if Alucard wanted to speak more. 

“My father succeeded in the task I asked of him,” Alucard said heavily. “And it cost him dearly. _Again_. I stay so he need not suffer alone.” 

“And because you love him,” Geralt said.

“Yes.” That one word held a wealth of joy and pain.

With that, Alucard grasped the beautiful work of art and yanked it, bringing a yelp of protest to Geralt’s lips. He might not be one for spending too much time thinking of art, but he couldn’t just stand by when something this beautiful was being destroyed for no reason.

His protest died on his lips when the heavy cloth fell down easily, displaying possibly the largest mirror he had ever seen. It was exquisitely clean, framed in carved brass, and spanned the whole wall, from ceiling to floor, reflecting not only the room but also, of course, the whole bed.

“I didn’t like the mirror,” Alucard said with a wry kind of tone but then paused. “I find no pleasure in my own reflection.” He looked at Geralt, eyes sliding slowly down Geralt’s chest. “I find myself rethinking the idea now.”

Geralt was just about to respond to Alucard’s words when he actually caught sight of himself and how he looked. Alucard was right about the fact that he looked hilarious with half his face shaved clean and the other smeared with soap and definitely hairy. It wasn’t what stopped the words head in his throat.

It was his scars.

Or rather, the fact a lot of them were missing. What was left looked decades old and so faded he only knew they were there because he knew where to look.

Carefully he ran his hands over his body, lingering on remnants of some of his more memorable fights. Even the scar over his eye had faded to a thin white line, not quite fading into his pale skin, but close. He couldn’t stop himself from turning around, and seeing the changes to his back and legs. 

The claw marks. The bites. So many stab wounds. That fucking dagger cut to the back. All faded, and most of them just _gone_. 

He wanted to ask how, but he already knew how. Dracula’s power. Whatever had been done to him had changed him on a fundamental level. This, more than any of his talking with Alucard, was what really drove it home. 

Geralt really would live for much, much longer than he anticipated. 

He faced forward again, and took stock of himself. Noted all the changes, but eyed the places that stayed the same. Given what he was and how he lived, Geralt kept in fighting trim constantly. He knew his body well, not just how it looked but exactly what it was capable of. 

Now he’d just undergone something transformational; a not unfamiliar sensation for him, waking up to find his body different. It was exactly that practice that helped him take this change in stride, too. As soon as he could, Geralt knew he’d want to get his blades and practice. He had to know what his new limits were, or even if they’d changed at all.

Just as he was contemplating that, his stomach growled loudly. Burning heat covered his face and chest as he blushed brightly. 

Alucard very kindly did not laugh, though he was smirking. “Come, let me finish shaving that scruff off of you, and we can get you fed.” 

He waved a hand towards the bed. Geralt went where directed, a sheepish smile on his face, while Alucard regathered his supplies.

With careful, sure movements, Alucard smoothed soapy foam over the unshaven side of Geralt’s face. Then he held up the jeweled hunting knife, one eyebrow raised.

Geralt just smiled and tilted his chin up. It wasn’t quite like showing his throat, more like it was an invitation. Whatever Alucard saw in the gesture made him smile, though, and he moved forward to straddle Geralt’s legs.

Immediately, Geralt ran his fingers over those slim hips and muscular sides, his smile curling wider, and heat racing through him. Gods, Alucard was beautiful. Geralt just wanted to lick and bite every inch of him.

“Behave,” Alucard said firmly, though Geralt saw the hint of humor that lurked in his eyes. “This knife is very sharp. It wouldn’t do to cut you.”

The moment the blade’s edge touched Geralt’s neck, a soft shiver ran through him. His eyes fluttered a bit and he dug his fingers into Alucard’s skin, relishing the warmth there, the way his nails dug into the flesh, the soft intake of Alucard’s breath. 

“You really do like this?” Alucard asked curiously. “Is it the danger of the blade?” 

The knife’s edge slowly scraped across Geralt’s face and he held back another shiver. Better to keep still, no matter how much his body wanted to twist happily. It took him a moment to drag his mind back to Alucard’s question, so pleased and caught up was he with the sharp slide on his skin. It was a very, very sharp blade, Geralt could tell by how smooth it felt on him. Like polished stone, almost.

“No.” He swallowed thickly. “No, it’s not the danger, or the risk, though those things have their appeal. It just feels good. Beautiful and…” He licked his lips. There was just a bit of astringent soap on the taste there, but he didn’t care in the slightest. The lick was almost reflexive, something to keep him from attempting to do other things with his mouth. “I like the duality. Hard, but smooth. Blunt and sharp.” He cast a heated gaze at Alucard. “Deadly but pleasurable. This knife was made for killing, but in the right hands it can cleanse. Heal. Even bring joy.” He took a breath, then huffed out a small laugh. “I might also just be a little odd. Enough people have said so.”

Another sharp scrape curled over his chin, and smoothed up his jaw, causing Geralt to shiver and grip Alucard’s hips even tighter. He struggled to hold Alucard still, to not give in and drag the young vampire into a filthy grind like he wanted to. Geralt’s cock was already plump and interested, and a burning hot flush had spread over his skin. He could tell without a look that Alucard was interested, too. Their groins were held close enough that Geralt could feel him slowly harden, so hot and tempting right next to him. 

But Geralt’s stomach really was waging war on his spine, and he knew damn well even he could only go so long without food, especially while healing. He closed his eyes and let Alucard finish.

“You are still full of surprises,” Alucard said eventually, wonder and mild astonishment plain in his voice. He slid off of Geralt’s lap, much to Geralt’s disappointment, and then wiped the last bit of soap off with a wet towel. “All done.”

Geralt ran a hand over his chin. “Smoothest shave I think I’ve ever gotten. My thanks, pretty wolf.” He winked at Alucard, and reveled in the slight pink that rose up in the young vampire’s cheeks. 

“Your gear.” Alucard walked over to a table on the far side of the room. Sure enough, Geralt’s clothing, armor, and weapons were all laid out, neat as could be. Even a new set of undergarments and pants, much to his amusement. Briefly, he felt his own cheeks heat up as he remembered Dracula cutting the garments right off of him with his claws.

He ran a finger over the supple leather pants. High quality. Sturdy, but soft. Charcoal gray, just like the rest of his armor, too. 

“Alucard, how do I thank the castle?” Geralt asked. “Does it have a name?”

Alucard looked at him like he was insane.

“Name?”

“Seems rude just to keep calling it castle. Especially when it’s kind enough to get me new pants.” He started to shimmy into his new clothes. Perfect fit.

“Kindness had nothing to do with it. Dracula considers you his guest, the castle exists to fulfill his wishes.” Alucard turned his eyes toward the large balcony doors and the mountains barely visible in the distance.

“Huh. So it needs a name then.” He pulled on his shirt and started to strap on his armor. It wasn’t that he was uncomfortable naked, especially not with Alucard around, but it felt nice to be in his leather and chainmail again. He slung his swords over his back and strapped on his belts.

“After it turned on Dracula, he stripped a lot of independence out of the servants here, most probably whatever is animating the building itself too.” Alucard shrugged. “I never asked for details.”

“Hmmmm, maybe a pet name then,” he mused. “Or I’ll ask Dracula his preference.”

“You are mad,” Alucard shook his head. “I try not to bring the castle up if I don’t have to.”

“I’ve heard that before,” Geralt replied easily. As a final touch, he took a leather strap out of a pouch and tied up his hair. He looked around the room, took in the fine wood table and the massive bed. The mirror and the art and the doors leading to the beautiful mountain scene outside. “Thank you, castle,” Geralt said to the walls. He trailed one hand across the finish of the table, admiring the grain on it. “And I apologize for breaking your furniture. I didn’t mean to, but it was still rude of me.”

Alucard did not roll his eyes, but Geralt could tell he wanted to. He just smiled and shrugged. The thanks cost him nothing, so might as well.

While he’d been getting dressed, Alucard had done the same, donning his long jacket, clawed gauntlets, and massive blade once more.

“You don’t use your magic to dress yourself?” Geralt asked, vaguely remembering how the clothes just formed themselves around Dracula without much effort on the vampire’s part.

“I like clothes,” Alucard shrugged. “I have human clothes too, because while they might be useless in battle they are really comfortable.”

“But you can use the magic right?” Geralt pressed.

Alucard looked at him, slow smirk growing on his face.

“You like that idea?”

The smile that Geralt gave him was slow and wicked, and he showed a fair amount of his teeth too. Alucard truly was delectable looking, especially in his armor and weapons. Dangerous and beautiful. It took a moment, but he swallowed down the hunger and gentled his smile. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I do.”

Alucard lowered his eyelids, hooding his eyes.

“Yes, I can do that too.”

Geralt closed his eyes and took a breath. “We should head to wherever the food is now, otherwise neither one of us will make it out of this room for a good long while.”

Alucard laughed out loud, a sudden burst of sound that both surprised and charmed Geralt.

“You are probably right,” Alucard agreed and went to the ornate door. “We should, otherwise your stomach is liable to jump out and eat me.”

“I’ll eat some part of you,” Geralt said playfully, but moved to follow where Alucard led.

They had to walk a long corridor and turn left three times, before they reached a grand hall that had stained windows on both sides of it. Geralt had to stop for a moment and stare at the easily four man high circular windows. 

The left one portrayed a beautiful angel with blindingly white wings. His golden hair streamed behind him as he strove ever higher into the air, and he held a burning sword in its hand. On the right there was a dark haired angel, with long straight hair that trailed behind him in streamers as he fell through clouds, bleeding and broken into the darkness below. His wings were losing their white feathers and black ones peeked through here and there, signifying the change he was going through. A the very bottom, below the darkness, there was an ominous glow of red just peeking through the heavy brass framing. The red glass casting flickered red shadows onto the polished stone floor giving them the briefest impression of walking through fire. 

Geralt tilted his head as far as he could. His gaze trailed across where the arches of the windows melded into the high ceiling. Suddenly he realized there were frescos all over it. Shining blue and white images of sky and clouds filled the ceiling. Each scene was pierced by the golden spears of fantastic towers; they were depicted too far away to see them clearly or even understand fully what one was seeing, but visible enough to tempt the eye. Geralt had to admit the effect was stunning. The heavens above with their unreachable light and the hell below, with its tangible fire and darkness. 

“This place…” Geralt whispered, awestruck by the sheer craftsmanship and beauty of it it. 

“I don’t know when most of it was built, or by who,” Alucard said. “I only knew Dracula as the slayer then, a monster willing to murder half the world to bring it under his dominion, his demonic servants carving a bloody swath through the countries all over the world. I didn’t even truly realize he was my Father until the final battle that cost me my life.” He looked up at the falling angel. “By then most of the castle existed already, but I only saw the dark parts of it, the horrors that live in the levels below the ground. The River of Fire and the Demonic Forges, the Prisons guarded by his his highest ranking servants… I only saw the pain and the rage then. I had no idea of the regret.” He reached his hand towards one of the detailed feathers, ripped out, bleeding at one end and starting to char from the heat on the other. “I didn’t realize he was in pain too.”

Geralt tried to visualize it. The vast castle and all its servants. A younger, driven, righteous Alucard fighting his way through, only to reach the heights and find such beauty. It was true that Geralt saw the darkness in Dracula, but Alucard had lived it. Fought through it. There was a millenia long history here filled with battles and family and love and hate. The scope of it boggled his mind.

“When did he realize you were his son?” Geralt asked.

Alucard smiled sadly, guiltily. 

“I was laying dying in the throne room, cut down like the mortal I was. I was angry and ashamed of my failure, terrified what he would do to the world so with my last breath I told him my name. It was my final revenge you see. My whole life I was taught that Gabriel Belmont, my Father, went mad and murdered my mother as well as other innocent people who stood in his way for the quest of power. He was the monster, the evil I needed to defeat my whole life.” There was anger in Alucard, rage that simmered somewhere deep. “Nobody told me he was under control of a spell, nobody cared that he was as much of a victim as my mother was.” He took his hand away from the stained glass, his fingers curled into a fist hard enough Geralt could smell the blood when his nails bit into his own skin. Geralt stepped closer to Alucard and took hold of his hand, slowly working on unbending the fingers and rubbing the tensed digits. Alucard’s eyes turned to him. 

“Don’t believe blindly Geralt,” Alucard said fiercely. “Don’t let yourself be blinded by the idea of greater good, of you being responsible for things you don’t understand. Always question.” His eyes bored into Geralt, and his words were low and urgent. “And if you want something, strive to get it. Good things are so damn rare Geralt. That one thing you deny yourself might be the one thing that might have saved you or somebody else later on.”

“Alucard---” Geralt tried to stop the current of words, the regret spilling out Alucard in desperate river. The pain in those words was a tangible thing and it made Geralt’s heart ache. He had to wonder if this was the first time that Alucard had ever spoken of what happened. Sometimes there was a difference between someone knowing past events because they were there too, and being able to tell someone about the past. To explain the thoughts and feelings. 

Maybe it was better for Geralt to let him talk. He did offer to share Alucard’s sorrows, after all. As lonely as Dracula surely was, no doubt Alucard was just as isolated.

“Do you know that back when he was still mostly mad with rage and betrayal, he let me kill him? He made it look good, made it a fight, made himself into even more of a monster than he already was just so that Simon and I could kill him together.” Alucard’s breath hitched. “So that my son could see a hero in me instead of a monster.”

“He’s not dead,” Geralt interjected, trying to break through the sadness. “He didn’t die.”

“I know,” Alucard said with a shudder, coming down from the height of emotion his memories brought. “It took me almost a thousand years to understand that though, understand that he wasn’t playing me. His faked death wasn’t to gain himself freedom to act or get rid of me. It was a gift, a perfect show of an evil Lord being defeated by united forces.” 

“Alucard.” Geralt brought up the wounded hand to his lips and kissed the already healing wounds there. “Your father is dark, yes. A blind man can see the kind of darkness that follows his every step, his ease with it, how natural it is for him.” He licked away the blood there, figuring he probably couldn’t be changed more than he was already by all that he took from Dracula. “But he’s not evil. I have seen men that were rotted to the core, slaves to their base desires, causing pain and suffering just for the pleasure of it. Your father seems too bloody stubborn to be ruled by anything but the goal he sets in front of himself.”

“I know he isn’t evil. But he believes himself to be.”

Geralt kissed up the hand he was holding to the last bits of wrist he could get to under the armored coat Alucard wore. His other hand he hooked into one of the heavy belts criss crossing Alucard’s slim hips and pulled the younger vampire closer, aligning them from hip to shoulder. 

“I’m a killer too,” he admitted quietly. “I carry two swords because one is meant for humans and one for everything else.” Geralt pressed his freshly shaved cheek against Alucard's smooth one. “I’m equally experienced in both.”

Alucard licked his lips. “What does it say about me,” he asked, “a man that was supposed to be champion of humans, that I love a man that all but drove humanity to extinction.” Alucard’s arms rose up to rest on Geralt’s shoulders, his hand resting against the double sword harness on Geralt’s back. “That the killer in my arms feels like the warmest and most loving person I have met in a very long time?”

“You just have a thing for competency,“ Geralt offered, pressing a brief kiss to the almost delicate line of Alucard’s jaw. 

“Dracula always accepted his fate, even after being betrayed over and over by the people he strove to serve, by his allies, by his own subjects. I can’t do that. I have to fight, to question, to struggle ‘til the day I die,” Alucard said tiredly, tilting his head back, giving Geralt more access to his smooth neck. 

“You died once already,” Geralt murmured, thinking of what Alucard said about his turning. “It’s time to try something new.” Then his stomach rumbled again, loud and long and Geralt blushed again. “I’m sorry. I’m really _hungry_.”

“Well,” Alucard said with a smile, untangling himself. “On the one hand, I am sure there’s a banquet hall full to bursting with food waiting for you.”

“And on the other?” Geralt asked, sensing a but. 

Alucard grinned. “Finding it might not be quite so easy.”

Geralt blinked and Alucard pointed his hand at something behind Geralt. When he turned to look he saw that one of the columns carved with demonic faces now had a white plaque on it that read:

“No Wolves Allowed” with an image of a snarling wolf’s head crossed out with red paint. 

“Don’t tell me we are going to be trekking all over the Castle now,” Geralt groaned, feeling as if his stomach was trying to stick itself to his spine and possibly digest it in its insistent demands for food. 

“Normally I would actually do that.” Alucard’s eyes softened. “But for a man who laid me as well as you did, more effort is required.“

Geralt felt a smug grin bloom on his lips. He couldn’t help it. Everybody liked to be praised and this kind of praise was especially pleasant to hear from a lover. 

Alucard took a step away from Geralt and cupped his hands together. Geralt’s pendant did not shiver this time, remaining still and dead against his chest as the gentle white glow filled Alucard’s hands casting flickering shadows over his features. 

It was Light magic, its warmth familiar and intriguing. Alucard spoke of Void and of Chaos, not of using the holy magics as well. 

Alucard’s head was bent over his hands, long hair falling over his shoulders, yet he seemed to sense Geralt’s surprise. 

“Light and Shadow were the magics that any male of the Belmont line could use from childhood. It runs through our blood. My Father’s parents are unknown, he was but an abandoned orphan on the doorsteps of one of the Brotherhood’s churches. It was later made clear, through his affinity for the fighting arts and the ease with which which he learned the Light and Shadow magic, that he was God’s Chosen One. Even though, unlike him, I can not cast divine rituals, the power of his line is strong within me.”

Alucard opened his hands and there, on his palm, a tiny sparrow made of light sat. Its head tilted curiously between Alucard and Geralt. Then it chirped, answering an unspoken command; when Alucard tossed it gently into air it spread its tiny wings and took flight. With every beat of its wings it shed tiny sparkles of light that melted into nothingness before they reached the ground. The small bird circled above their heads once, a glowing beacon of light in a place constantly shrouded in shadows, before it flew off, turning left at an intersection. 

“Let’s follow our guide before it gets eaten by one of the servants of this castle.” Alucard motioned for Geralt to follow him, stepping confidently after the spell. 

They had to take four flights of stairs down, turn left twice, and cross a courtyard with sunken stone floor and strangely regular stone pillars that arched out from the floor but never reached the high ceiling. It made Geralt think of a fighter’s arena, and brought back no few memories of his own experiences with such places. 

Then they turned right, and crossed the borders of the most amazing garden he’d ever seen inside a castle. It was full of ancient trees, so tall their crowns were shrouded in the mist above, obscuring the ceiling or the lack of it. The leaves had the warm colors of fall, red and golden, and they fell to the ground in absolute silence among several raised stone beds. Each bed was bedecked with strange flowers, and Geralt longed to look at them closer. 

The smell of forest was so thick in the air that he had to stop and inhale. Like the oldest of Elven forests, there was power here, natural and primal. It permeated the air, stung his nose, and made his pendant shiver uncertainly. He took in the exquisite view. The way the light broke through the thick canopy of leaves above, and the huge Owl sitting on one of the gnarled tree branches, preening its feathers. 

“What is this place?” he asked, amazed again. He knew Elves that would have wept in joy to see this, to feel the primal power pulsing in every leaf and every gentle gust of air. There was even the sound of gently trickling water over stones somewhere close, a fountain or a stream probably. “It almost feels like a holy place, definitely a place of power.”

Alucard looked back from where he was leading. Above his shoulder Geralt could see the sparrow circling back to them, its light giving him a warm glow. 

“It is.” Alucard nodded. “From what I gathered of my Father’s story, back when he was still a human, still a Knight of Brotherhood, an Elder God --- Pan --- sacrificed his life to help him enter the realm of the dead. They were friends, I think,” Alucard said quietly. “There was no mention of my Father forcing him and the ritual for opening the gates to the world of the dead requires a willing sacrifice.” 

Alucard stepped closer to the edge of the stone path but stopped before his boots touched the thick layer of leaves beyond. “This forest is his memorial now as it used to be his temple. A millenia later a different Elder God faced off with Dracula in this same place, searching revenge for his fallen brother.” Alucard sighed. “The Dracula he fought was no longer the tormented human Knight of before, he had killed the previous Lords of Shadow by then, absorbed their power just as he did to the Forgotten One. This forgotten god stood no chance. Dracula slayed him here, killing one of the few remaining neutral powers of the world.”

“It’s an enchanted place, isn’t it?” Geralt asked, watching how carefully Alucard did not touch any of the falling leaves. 

“Yes. Dracula can walk here if he wants, the forest will not contest his ownership, but I would advise against stepping foot on the leaves nonetheless.”

“It feels like it’s waiting.” Geralt took a moment to breathe in the sheer potential of it, the primal power of nature that he was sure he could hear if he just listened closely enough. 

“There’s no one to worship any of the Old Gods anymore.” Alucard’s voice was full of regret. 

“Maybe not in your world,” Geralt murmured, thinking of the Aen Seidhe, Iorveth, and even the elf that trained Ciri in the art of travelling the worlds. He wondered what would they do if they ever saw this place, and what would this forest do when offered Elven company. It seemed like such a shame for it to be left abandoned and waiting for millenia. 

“Let’s go,” Alucard urged gently and turned towards the long corridor just beyond the garden walls. “We are close.”

Geralt hurried to follow him, the thoughts of Elves mourning the lessening of their race forgotten at the promise of food. 

“Do you have, in your world, an idea of Hell? Of the realm where the demons come from and where souls of the wicked go?” Alucard asked following after the glowing bird.

“Yes,” Geralt admitted. 

Alucard looked at him over his shoulder with a small, patient smile on his face.

“My Father claims that there’s just the one. One Hell or however you might call it. That all dead go into that one place and all demons are born there.”

Geralt considered this for a moment, listening to the sound of their footsteps echoing the empty hallways.

“The idea that darkness is universal does make sense in a terrifying sort of way.”

Stopping close to a narrow, high window, Alucard looked out over the snowy, untouched mountaintops visible behind the stained glass. The window itself depicted a roaring dragon in beautifully crafted red glass.

“Haven’t you realized yet?”

Geralt arched his eyebrows.

“My Father is the Prince of Darkness, Geralt.” Alucard looked back at him. “ _The_ Prince of Darkness.”

Oh.

 _Oh_.

That...actually explained a lot. 

He shook his head. How was he not dead? 

There was a small part of him that was mildly terrified. What, really, had he done here, attracting the attention of a Greater Power, and a dark one at that? He couldn’t begin to guess how this would affect his travel home, or even his world once he got there. If it would at all.

The vast majority of him was far more turned on than he probably should be. Sweet Gods, no wonder Dracula fucked like a beast. It made each one of those little broken sounds that Geralt’s body had wrung out of Dracula all the more exciting. Even a small loss of composure was an achievement. Bringing a little joy to the master vampire’s existence was all that much sweeter, too. No doubt he saw little enough of it. 

A million different ideas spun through his head. Things he wanted to try. Tactics to see if he could work a few more of those sounds out of Dracula’s mouth.

He started walking, but then stopped as a terrifying realization popped into his head.

He would have to _tell Ciri_.

That was going to go over just fucking great, he was sure.

Geralt refocused and started walking again. That was a problem for later. Besides, Ciri wouldn’t truly be angry with him. Maybe a little annoyed. Possibly very frustrated. But surely not _angry_. It’s not like it ended badly.

A slow smirk spread across Geralt’s face as he thought about how the night _had_ ended. 

“Did you just…” Alucard trailed off, shaking his head. “Never mind, I don’t need to know.”

Geralt could smell that they were in the right place even before Alucard stopped across from the heavy wooden doors, carved with snarling demon heads. The scent of rich food was making him salivate and his stomach was all but stuck to his spine now. 

Alucard pushed the heavy doors open. Or maybe they opened for him, Geralt couldn’t say. Once open, though, the force of the scents that hit him all but bowled him over and made his stomach give another loud growl, one that didn’t truly end. 

Alucard didn’t enter the heavenly smelling room; he just stood there at the entrance, staring down at the floor. After a heartbeat, he huffed and made a long step, clearly avoiding something. 

Geralt looked down and saw a woven matt, not uncommon in inns and even large banquet halls. Just above it, carved in neat letters was one sentence: _Don’t forget to wipe your paws._ At both ends of the sentence there was by now a familiar image of a wolf’s head crossed out with red paint. 

Geralt considered it for a beat, then shrugged his shoulders and wiped his feet. He looked up to see Alucard staring at him incredulously.

“What? I’m Geralt of Riva, also known as the White Wolf.” He pointed down at the mat. “It’s a reasonable request.”

Whatever Alucard’s response was, Geralt lost it because he caught sight of the huge table and all the wonderful food spread out on it. He was at the table in four large steps, reaching for some kind of roasted poultry. He tore off a leg and devoured it in a few bites. Even as he was chewing, he was already looking at the steaming buns beside the poultry. With his left hand he reached for the bread, as he let go of the already bare leg. He bit off half of the bun, barely chewing before swallowing and already busy with tearing another piece succulent flesh off the bird. 

Geralt was so hungry, starving really, and his stomach wasn’t going to wait any more. The pleasure of the first food to hit his stomach in a while was almost ecstatic, pulling a moan out of him between bites. The bird was gone in minutes and so were three of the buns. He licked his fingers. The spicy fat dripped down to his wrist so he just licked it off with wide swipes of his tongue that took care of the most of the mess. All the while he scanned for his next target. 

There was a gently steaming roast a little higher up the table, surrounded by steaming pile of vegetables, potatoes, and carrots. He snatched a carrot and munched it down in two bites as he considered how to approach the roast. Next to it he spied a large fork and long, thin knife obviously meant for slicing the meat. With a quiet sound of triumph he grabbed the cutlery and stuck the fork in the middle of the roast. 

Next he started slicing it into two finger wide slices. The flesh fell easily to the sharp knife, exposing juicy pink meat inside. He grabbed another of those sweet buns, tore it in half, and slapped a piece of meat between the halves. After some consideration he also grabbed a roasted carrot and stuck that between the bread pieces too. He took two bites of it, feeling the juices drip down his chin before he even remembered to sit down at the table.

Not stopping his chewing, he hooked the nearest chair with his foot and pulled it under himself as he sank down, his left hand already reaching for the salted cucumbers he could smell just to the left. The first tiny cucumber he stuffed whole into his mouth, and bit down with a loud crunch. He moaned again as the salty-sour taste mixed astonishingly well with the fatty meat he was already chewing on. That flavor reminded him that his hastily made sandwich was all but gone and he tore another bun in half.

There was a thump beside him and he turned to see Alucard placing a goblet full of thickly scented wine just beside Geralt’s elbow.

“At least try not to choke to death,” Alucard chided gently, though he didn’t actually sound angry. There was a flush starting up really high on his cheeks. 

Geralt snorted in amusement and took a sip of the wine, washing his current mouthful of food down. “I can see it now. ‘Here lies Geralt of Rivia, Champion to many peoples, witcher, father. Choked to death on a pickle.’ Everyone would think it a euphemism, but no.” He buttered a roll and then drizzled some honey over the butter. “Better than the last time I died, I guess. Stabbed in the stomach with a pitchfork.” He rolled his eyes and snorted again, then took a huge bite from the roll.

Heavenly. 

“...Pitchfork.” 

Geralt had no idea how to describe the tone of voice he heard from Alucard. Disbelieving didn’t quite cover it.

“There was an angry mob.” He shrugged. “They were coming for a few non-humans that lived in the town. They were gonna burn them. Lynch maybe. I didn’t live to see the end of that one.” His face stretched into a dry smile and he looked over to Alucard. “Turns out that not every risk pans out.”

“You want me to believe you couldn’t cut your way through a few dozen peasants?” Alucard was watching him with those wolf gold eyes. “You tried not to kill them, didn’t you?” he added after a while, reaching for another decanter and pouring himself a healthy goblet of wine. Geralt drank half of his in one go, the sweet, rich taste sliding smoothly down his throat and nudged his cup towards Alucard for a refill.

He ate the roll and decided he definitely wasn’t yet done with the meat. This time he pulled up a plate and started loading up a few ladles of every dish in sight. He couldn’t recognize most of that, but he was brave enough to try them all.

“To be honest it’s a bit blurry. I had to hear about a lot of it from other people. From what I can remember, though, I think I was trying to get everyone to talk it out. I was in the middle of dinner, or some kind of meal. I wasn’t expecting a fight.” As he licked his fingers he furrowed his brow, trying to remember through the haze. 

“Next time, just cut through them,” Alucard snapped, sounding oddly angry. “Mobs form quickly, but if you cut down the ones that bark the loudest, the rest usually discover they really have important things to do at home.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. I don’t think I actually learned my lesson, because it wasn’t the last time I tried to talk down a mob. I did get better at it though.” 

Alucard still looked sour.

“Don’t get killed because you are trying to save everyone. Just pick a target.”

Geralt just shrugged again, and took another sip of wine. It really was rather good. If his alcohol tolerance wasn’t far, far above what a normal human’s would be, he’d expect that this particular drink would have him completely smashed in no time. “Better me than innocents. Women. Children. People just trying to live their lives. So what if they look different.”

Alucard stared at Geralt for a long moment.

“If you die because you were trying not to kill a person that already chose to kill someone else, who is going to help that child or that woman? Or the next one?”

It was probably an inappropriate time to laugh, but Geralt couldn’t hold back a small smile. Alucard sounded exactly like any number of his other friends, berating him for his idiot decisions. He shook his head. “I know. I’ve been well informed. A few of my closer friends took it upon themselves to, ah, educate me on alternate tactics. Hard to remember when it’s happening, though. It’s ridiculous how many mobs I run into.” It kind of was, too. Sadly, it wasn’t that surprising, though. Tensions were pretty damn high between humans and non-humans. Things were getting ugly. On all sides. 

“Or think of it this way,” Alucard said suddenly. “One day, a month, a year, a decade after the fact, Dracula hears you died at the hand of some peasant in some town, trying to stop an impromptu lynching. Considering my Father actually _likes_ you, what do you imagine might be his immediate response? Think before you answer.”

Geralt opened his mouth to say something, and then stopped. Saying that Dracula had a temper was like saying volcanoes were slightly warm. What was more surprising was that Dracula’s rage might be tipped off by something that had happened to Geralt. Not even recently, either. It was years ago.

He looked at Alucard and tilted his head in thought. 

“Your life is not meaningless and neither is your death. Neither me nor my Father count time in human terms. You have been invited to share something with us, that no mortal had since we both were still human. Don’t think it’s taken lightly. Besides, I highly doubt there aren’t people who would care about your death, who wouldn’t go to that town and track down the responsible party.” Alucard took a deep drink of his wine. “You are the only one that doesn’t value your life.” He still sounded angry, but it was a banked anger, as if Alucard already knew this battle wouldn’t be worth fighting.

“If you die,” Alucard said all but vengefully, “I will personally urge my Father to find out what happened.”

“That’s blackmail,” Geralt said blankly, totally taken aback by the threat coming from Alucard of all people.

“I am learning,” Alucard stated with vindictive pride, putting his goblet down and reaching for the jug. “You eating?”

Geralt was still hungry. His stomach was no longer trying to eat through his insides but he definitely had a place for a plate or two more. Still reeling, he reached for his fork and stabbed a piece of meat, something glazed in honey, and dragged it to his plate.

“You know, Triss made a similar offer.” He shook his head, and took another bite. “Though less on the blackmail side, and more on the personal vengeance side. She’s a sorceress. Got her own agenda, they all do, but she and I sometimes work together.” He heaved a sigh. “It’s only gonna get worse, though.”

“How so?”

Now that was a tricky pickle to answer. There was so much packed into what was happening, it was hard to narrow the problem down. And in the end, Geralt wasn’t really one of the movers and shakers, though he occasional was close to them. While he thought through how to answer, he made his way through another plate of food. 

“Things are changing in the world,” he eventually said. “My world, I mean. Due to a lot of reasons. Some of it is politics and war. Some of it is, I dunno, just the nature of people and how the world changes. But wars have started and are spreading. There’s this religious order that’s...well, they say they’re helping. I’m sure they help some people, anyways. But there are witch hunts. A lot of them. Things can’t hold this way forever. Something will break.”

“It probably will,” Alucard agreed. “There were witches burning at the stakes in my world too.” He lowered his voice and put his hand on Geralt’s shoulder. “I understand your need to help, that you can’t just stand back and do nothing. It’s one of the things I find so interesting about you. But you don’t have the responsibility to die for that goal. Being smart about it, being cautious is no shame,” he sighed. “I tried both ways, and so far the cautious approach is serving me better.”

There was truth to that, even Geralt saw it. “Honestly, I try to avoid this stuff most of the time. Witchers are supposed to be neutral parties. Generally we’re lumped with the non-humans. I keep getting involved though, and often by accident.” He grimaced, and spooned a pile of savory roasted vegetables onto his plate.

“By the way, how long have I been asleep?” Geralt asked, aching to change the subject. As delicious as the food was, even he was starting to slow down at this point. He looked over the table for any choice bits that he hadn’t tried yet, or things that he wanted final helpings of.

“A little over eight hours. I admit I got bored waiting for you to wake up.”

“Thus shaving,” Geralt said dryly.

“Thus shaving,” Alucard confirmed seriously. He hadn’t so much as touched any of the food, aside from the wine they both drank, but Geralt wasn’t surprised. 

“Has Ciri awoken at all during that time?” He could still feel the wards around her, but both Yrden and Quen were attached to her body and not the place she was at. So while it was improbable for her to have woken up, it wasn’t impossible.

“No,” Alucard shook his head. “I think Father sent someone to start looking into why she is still asleep.”

Geralt frowned, worry starting to gnaw at him. Her being asleep for long periods of time while exhausted wasn’t a new thing. Travelling usually didn’t drain her that much, but they had just done a lot of it in a short amount of time so she did have a reason to be exhausted.

“I want to see her,” Geralt said.

Alucard nodded.

“Probably a good idea, but I would like you to visit Father first. He has something for you.”

Geralt nodded. It made sense. As much as they spent some truly amazing hours together, Dracula was still the lord of this castle, and the request wasn’t even anything big. He would stop by Dracula and then go see Ciri. He’d been so busy thinking of what kinds of potions he could pour down Ciri’s throat that he completely forgot to worry about the gift. In his experience, Lords usually gave him gifts they found worthy and were totally useless to him. Or worse yet, they were something irritating dressed up as a boon. He didn’t think that Dracula would give him such a thing but, well, it wasn’t like it hadn’t happened before.

"Lead on," Geralt said with a wave.


	5. Chapter 5

Of course, when it came to meeting Dracula’s needs, the Castle fell all over itself to be accommodating. Which meant that when Alucard opened the same door they entered through, instead of a long hallway they were let straight into an enormous throne room.

Alucard merely sighed and stepped through.

Trying to keep any sort of map in his head was giving Geralt a headache. Not only because of the fact that the rooms kept shifting however they damn well pleased, but also the sheer scale of the rooms themselves. He was fairly sure nothing that big could actually be built; it had to be magic keeping the building together.

Geralt found that he didn't quite know where to look. Most of the room was a vast empty space. Two rows of large stone pillars lined the sides of the room, framing an aisle directly to Dracula’s chair, with deep shadows hiding the rest of the room from sight. Geralt and Alucard had walked in from a doorway to the side of the grand hall, so they saw Dracula slouched into his chair in profile.

If that massive thing could even be called a chair. Geralt had seen some impressive thrones in his life; between the various monarchs he’d been hired by and the wide array of self important spell casters he’d met, there had been a plethora of thrones in his past. 

Dracula’s throne easily overshadowed them all. The back of the damn thing towered into the air, taller than most two story buildings. It shimmered in the dim light. Geralt couldn’t quite tell what it was made of, but it looked like some kind of black metal. The dark, sinuous surface was shiny and foreboding, and there were things carved into it. Or perhaps it had just grown that way, twisted and alive like the magic that fueled this place. Either way, the seat was a writhing maze of serpentine shapes that never seemed to settle into a form, but yet still looked humanoid. Or demonic.

Truly a throne for the King of Hell.

Despite it’s intimidating appearance, Geralt wasn’t all that disturbed. Because seated in that chair was Dracula, the source for all the power that had created this place. It should have been frightening. Objectively, it probably was. But all Geralt could see and feel was the strange miasma of emotion that seemed to radiate off of him. Sadness. Regret. Deeply held rage as well, but also...hopelessness. A deeply set disillusionment that reminded him of what Alucard said, about Dracula being betrayed over and over again yet still accepting his fate.

All in all it made him want to go cheer the poor man up.

“Did you tell him?” Dracula’s voice was quiet, yet it carried through the enormous room with remarkable clarity.

“I told him many things,” Alucard said in an artificially calm voice. The tone of it immediately pulled Geralt’s attention to him for how strange it was. “Not sure any of them were helpful in any way.”

Geralt blinked.

Did Alucard just tease his father with a perfectly deadpan delivery? Geralt had to admit, he was impressed.

“As always, you are a joy to behold,” Dracula answered with a wry little smirk.

“Thank you,” Alucard accepted the praise with a shallow bow. “I try.”

It suddenly occurred to Geralt that Dracula had been sitting here alone in his throne room, probably for several hours. Thinking. _Marinating_ in his grim thoughts. Whatever joy they’d managed to share together in the past day had forced Dracula into a brooding sulk.

On one hand, Geralt could empathize. It was difficult to accept good things sometimes, especially when one felt so demoralized in general. This certainly wasn’t the first time he’d seen a lover become guilty and depressed after allowing themselves to have something good for a while.

On the other hand, Geralt's ass worked hard and long for that joy. Dracula could be more appreciative of the efforts, _really_.

A smirk worked its way across his face.

Well. If Dracula was in such a foul mood, perhaps there was something Geralt could do to cheer him up. And since his ass had worked so hard the previous night, maybe it was time for his mouth to have a little fun.

“It is true,” Geralt said out loud, ambling closer to the throne and the man seated on it. He considered the loose sprawl of Dracula’s legs, the banked power of the man. Gods, but he was hot. Not beautiful in a classic way as Alucard was, but he had a pure, raw power that, frankly, went straight to Geralt’s cock. “I have been told many things,” he agreed, as unhelpful as possible.

Dracula’s lips twitched.

Slowly Geralt made his way up to the throne, gently circling around so he arrived closer to the front than the side. He kept his face as serious as he could. This was important. “There’s one very critical thing I haven’t heard yet, though. _My Lord_.”

Dracula’s head was still resting on his fist, elbow braced on the thickly carved armrest but Geralt could see the spark of interest appearing in the vampire’s eyes.

“And what would that be?”

Imbuing as much deadly seriousness into his movement as he could, Geralt stalked forward. 

“I have not yet heard…” He moved to stand right in between those powerful thighs, and then dropped to his knees. “The noises you make when I swallow your cock.”

Alucard made a noise like teakettle ready to boil as the breath left him in a surprised whistle before he managed to swallow the sound. Geralt made himself not look, afraid of his own reaction at the sight of Alucard’s expression right this moment.

Then a brilliant idea came to him, so obvious he couldn’t believe he hadn’t come up with it in the first place.

“Correction,” he said out loud. “As we both pay homage,” he let the rumble enter his voice. “On our knees, between your legs. Will you let us?”

He wasn’t looking at Alucard, couldn’t even see him in his peripheral vision, so he couldn’t tell what the younger vampire was thinking. But he didn’t hear any denials either, so he forged ahead. Geralt could see that Dracula wasn’t as unaffected now, his eyes sharpening in interest. Something of his offer surprised Dracula much more than an impromptu blowjob offer could.

Geralt let his features soften, and a wry twist came to his lips. “Turns out I’ll have a fair amount of time to perfect my skills. Lucky me, it’s a favored pastime of mine.”

He swallowed, suddenly distracted by a different thought.

“You knew, didn’t you? That I would be changed.”

Dracula was silent for a while, but he straightened in the throne, no longer leaning on his elbow.

“Yes,” he admitted eventually.

Another indrawn breath from Alucard, but no words.

“When?” he asked, trying to remember the order of events.

Dracula did not move his eyes from Geralt, looking him straight in the eyes but something told him most of his attention was on Alucard.

“The moment I tasted your blood,” he admitted after a while. There was no apology in his voice, no regret, nothing but…caution, maybe.

“So before you breathed your power into me. Long before it,” Geralt asked, just to be sure.

“Yes,” Dracula confirmed calmly. No explanation. No apology. Nothing but patient stare waiting to see which way Geralt would jump, or maybe Alucard, or both.

Geralt mulled this information over in his head for a moment, uncaring if Dracula saw how he was thinking it through. Dracula would probably see through any facade he put up anyways, so why bother.

He found that he wasn’t as disturbed as he might have been. Maybe it was because he’d already been modified so much. He willingly pushed himself to take on more experiments, to seek out and consume more body altering potions, all to make himself stronger. Better.

There was also the fact that he’d damn well known Dracula wasn’t human, wasn’t even close to human, when he jumped into bed with him. He could hardly find it in himself to be mad about some unanticipated side effects.

“Why,” he asked finally, curiosity getting the better of him.

“What would you do,” Dracula said slowly, “if somebody brought you an unfinished weapon. A good weapon, a great one even, but with that one thing missing. Something you could fix with barely any effort on your part. Would you throw it away or complete it?” Dracula leaned back in his chair. “I could tell you were an artificial creation.” He mentioned to the castle around them. “It’s something I have experience with. When I tasted your blood, I knew you were…unfinished. That there was still more, a _potential_ if you will.”

That actually did make Geralt smile a little. He looked down, and gently ran a finger across the seam of his new pants. “You really did make me pretty. My wonderful artist.”

Dracula ran his eyes over Geralt’s face, lingering on the much lessened scar over his eye.

“That was a pleasant side effect, yes.”

A small laugh bubbled out of Geralt and he very nearly rolled his eyes, but not quite. He leaned his head on Dracula’s knee, cheek resting on the beginning of the inner thigh. “I’m not hearing a ‘no’ to my offer though.” He raised an eyebrow and smiled. “From either of you,” he added pointedly, his ears perked to hear Alucard’s response.

“You are a mad creature.” Alucard’s voice was low but not displeased. His footsteps, much too quiet for somebody wearing plated boots, came closer until they were even with him.

“So I’ve heard,” Geralt replied pleasantly.

It was Dracula that made a sound then. Just an indrawn breath really, but it was more reaction than Geralt expected this early in the game. When he felt Alucard step into the small space between Geralt and Dracula’s leg and then slowly lower himself to his knees with a grace of a cat, he knew why. The younger vampire was watching him from the corner of his eye, blush curling up around his ear and slowly creeping lower.

“Yet your ideas have some merit.” Alucard transferred his attention to Dracula, eyes going dark and liquid in a way that told Geralt he wasn’t the only one turned on by the powerful figure Dracula presented to them. “Sometimes.”

Dracula didn’t say anything right away, but he shifted, spreading his legs more, giving them both room if they wanted it.

The clasp around his waist, though large and decorative, was fairly easy to open. Geralt only had to run his fingers down the wide belt holding it up to find the two metal clasps and released them, pulling the piece away and exposing simple leather trousers laced up in the front.

“Alucard, have you ever untied a man’s lacings with your teeth?” Geralt side-eyed the younger vampire.

Alucard raised his eyebrows at him but shook his head no. His hand was resting on Dracula’s knee and slowly inching up. It occurred to Geralt that Alucard wasn’t just playing along. He wanted to do it, wanted to touch Dracula and possibly wring out some more exciting sounds of him.

“Let me show you how,” Geralt said with a grin. He let one hand slide forward, up Dracula’s thigh, and then curve over his hip. With the other arm, he stroked across Alucard’s neck, rubbing the muscle there before cradling the base of his skull. Then he grabbed hold of the hair there and pushed Alucard forward, moving with him so that their upper bodies rested on Dracula’s thighs.

“Now I’m sure you could just bite those laces right open, but we’ll save that for another time. First you’re gonna want to savor that treat in front of you. Let him know how much you want it.”

Alucard’s breath hitched for a moment as Geralt leaned in, nosing right into Dracula’s leather covered groin. He let his eyelids grow heavy as he rubbed his nose up and down that soft, supple fabric. Clearly, they were of similar make and design to Geralt’s own pants; no doubt created in the same way, too, so it wasn’t a surprise at all to feel how rich and plush the fabric was. The light scent of hide filled his nose, and under that was Dracula’s unique smell; fire, blood, skin, and power. He kissed and rubbed and gently mouthed at the hot, growing bulge there. As he did so, Geralt could the arousal filling him up as well. He breathed in deep, eager to take in more of that scent, getting drunk off of it, and off the knowledge that Dracula was enjoying his attentions.

Just as he opened his mouth, letting his lower lip drag against the confined length of Dracula’s cock, Geralt looked up into Dracula’s eyes. He let his breath come out in a shuddering pant, his tongue just barely touching the firm leather there. Though Dracula simply watched, composed as ever, there was a burning in his eyes that Geralt loved.

But it wasn’t only Geralt that Dracula had eyes for, and Geralt knew it. Hell, he wanted it. He couldn’t wait to lick into Alucard’s mouth with Dracula’s cock in between them.

“Come on up here, pretty wolf. If you’re too far away, you won’t be able to see properly.” Geralt’s voice came out a little rough, but not as rough as he hoped it would be later. With the hand on Alucard’s skull, he urged him up so that Alucard was nearly sprawled on Dracula’s lap, arm cradling Dracula’s hip and face just inches away from where Geralt sat in worship. “Maybe you could help me with this part? We need to make sure that he’s hard and ready for us.”

That brilliant blush had spread all the way down Alucard’s neck, and he took a shuddering gasp. He moved forward, so damn close that he and Geralt were sharing the same breaths of air, and rubbed his lips along the other side of Dracula’s firm bulge.

The two of them nuzzled and rubbed and lay gentle kisses all across the leather there. Occasionally, Geralt would lean in, licking a line straight from the fabric up into Alucard’s mouth, sucking the taste of hide right off his tongue. Their kisses lasted only a moment or two, but were no less burningly hot for it. Gently, he guided Alucard’s head around, his hand still firmly in the soft silver hair that washed over them like a shroud. With every kiss and stroke of their cheeks, heat and want grew inside of him. He let himself need it, crave it, fell in to the act of giving pleasure to the point where he was achingly hard.

He had a brief thought to try and rest his legs on either side of Dracula’s boot, just so he could rut against it, but he saved that idea for later. Now was about seduction, not self-satisfaction.

Slowly but surely, the leather grew damp from their efforts. That wasn’t Geralt’s goal, but he wasn’t unhappy about it. Before they could soak the material too much, and thus make is a massive pain in the ass to move, Geralt trailed his mouth up to the top of the lacings.

Very delicately, he let his lips feel the nature of the knot there. He’d had a chance to look things over while he’d been enjoying himself, so he knew that it wasn’t a terribly complicated one. If it had been, he would have asked Alucard to bite it open. But as it was, Geralt was sure of his success in this task.

He gently bit down on one of the tightened loops of the knot, and looked up, catching Dracula’s gaze. Then, teeth bared, he pulled, loosening up the core of the knot. Over and over he did this, the taste of leather on his tongue and the smell of Dracula’s body in his nose, and that inferno like gaze scorching him from above. He pulled and tugged, little bit by little bit, until at last the knot had completely come undone.

“Pretty wolf,” Geralt said, and then swallowed heavily. Fuck, he was so damn hard, and Dracula’s cock was right there, just waiting to be sucked, all hot and hard inside Geralt’s mouth. He had to swallow again just to stop himself from drooling at the thought of it. “Pretty wolf,” he said again. “Come use your teeth. Pull each lace out of it’s loop, one by one. Watch him as you do it. Show him your beautiful, sharp teeth. Many men don’t like that, but I think that this one does.”

While Alucard made slow work of the laces, Geralt sank a bit down to mouth at the crease of the groin and thigh. The heat of Dracula’s body was so much that Geralt could feel it through the leather, warm like a second skin and damp from their attentions. He kissed and nibbled his way under the bulge of Dracula’s cock, pausing to kiss and nuzzle right at the head. He could just barely taste a hint of precome through the leather, or maybe he could just smell it. That was all the encouragement Geralt needed to take the tip into his mouth and suck, eager to get more of a taste. He could feel Dracula twitch under him, and he couldn’t stop his hips from thrusting forward, too.

Again, he debated about just opening his own pants and letting his cock free. But he still had one hand firmly latched into Alucard’s hair, and the other digging deep into Dracula’s thigh. As much as he wanted to pleasure himself, he wanted to hold on to his lovers more. Wanted to feel every little shudder and gasp and flex as it happened. Each reaction only heightened his own arousal, pressing his cock hard into his own pants, and making every part of his skin prickle with excitement.

Dracula made a noise, then, a strangled little sound that pulled Geralt up from where he was doing his best to suck Dracula through his pants. He saw that Alucard had the item in question open completely as was busily, messily licking at the exposed root of Dracula’s cock. The smell of precome and musk was stronger now and mixed with Dracula’s scent, thick between them. Geralt surged up, pressing in close to Alucard and sticking his tongue into the open vee of leather. He licked sloppily, tasting skin and leather. When he met Alucard’s tongue doing the same, he did his best to lick that too, making his cheek slide against that hard bulge he was worshiping.

While he never had problems with going onto his knees to pleasure his lovers, this time was different. Geralt was so much more aware of where he was than usual. The echoing room gave the impression of being a public space and some wild part of Geralt’s mind insisted on showing him a mental image how it must look. Dracula on his throne, sprawled and powerful, with Geralt and Alucard kneeling between his legs desperately licking at him, pleasuring him, and worshipping him where anybody could see. 

It brought a shudder down his back, and heat coiling around his cock. The new and somewhat terrifying knowledge of who Dracula was, of what exactly Geralt was getting into here, was both frightening and exciting him in ways he just didn’t expect. He moaned and broke the filthy wet kiss with Alucard. Then he turned back to the opened pants, latched onto the visible bit of swollen cock, and started sucking for all he was worth. He wanted to taste Dracula more, needed to wring sounds of him.

Roughly, with a guttural undertone that Geralt hadn’t yet heard from the quiet vampire, Dracula pushed his hand between Geralt and his prize. He scooped his dick and heavy balls out of the opening in one impatient move.

Geralt didn’t need the encouragement of the strong hand that closed on the back of his neck, dragging him closer to the fully exposed cock - long and thick, fully erect and slightly wet at the tip. Even as he opened his lips to catch that fat head into his mouth, he could feel Dracula’s other hand settle over his own on Alucard’s head. Dracula manhandled Alucard with a hissed out ‘ _yess_ ’ that sent a shiver of victorious delight down Geralt’s spine and made him thrust his hips into against nothing. He sucked harder at what he managed to get his lips around, breaking occasionally to lave his dripping wet tongue all around the glans. 

Soon after that, he felt Alucard pressing closer, licking lower around Dracula’s shaft, wetting his cock just like Geralt did. It was all sloppy and enthusiastic, and he sucked and lipped like there just wasn’t anything better in the world. 

They met just under the head. Geralt opened his mouth to take as much as he could get of that thick shaft, and Alucard licked over the cock and Geralt’s lips in equal matter. They kissed around it, exchanging the musky taste of their lover between them. Dracula was panting, the loudest Geralt heard him be until now. The thigh Geralt was clutching was tensing and relaxing in ways that told him that his lover was holding himself from thrusting up. The dick he was worshiping was leaking precome steadily now and the head was a dark pink. The glans was swollen so prettily that Geralt just had to go back there, had to put his lips around the side of that thick, wide head, and suck hard, delighting in the groan it pulled out of Dracula.

Catching on, Alucard was there too, on the other side, putting his own mouth around what Geralt didn’t cover. Their lips touched and overlapped. Dracula’s hand on the back of Geralt’s neck tightened and his fingernails dug into his sensitive skin. Then he arched underneath them, cock swelling and twitching as he started coming with a strangled sound. Geralt was the first to get his lips around the tip of him, sucking harshly, drawing the orgasm right out of him, so high on the power and pleasure he was dizzy with it. 

One spurt, two, bitter and thick, filling his mouth and Alucard was pushing him away. He nosed close, licking at where Geralt’s lips were closed tightly around that wide head, angling for a taste. Geralt pulled back and a trail of sticky come trailed off from his open, wet lips to the still twitching cock. Alucard moaned, a breathy sound that made Geralt’s own cock twitch and pulse. 

He watched as Alucard took his place, sucking Dracula’s cock into his mouth. His cheeks hollowed as he sucked desperately, making tiny, needy sounds Geralt could just hear above Dracula’s heavy panting. The hotness of that image alone was almost unbearable. 

With a hungry groan of his own, Geralt dove down, angling for the forgotten balls and sucked one in, taking it deep and sucking hard. All the while, he laved over them with his tongue. It pulled a choked yell out of Dracula and a harsh jerk of his hips that drove his cock so deep down Alucard’s throat the younger vampire choked on it. Alucard didn’t pull away though. He stayed right there; his nose all but smushed into Dracula’s rock hard abdomen and his throat working around the visible girth in it. 

Geralt moaned. Precome leaked into his own pants as he dove at Dracula’s balls again, trying to suck both of them into his mouth. He ached to suck and lick at the same time, and was drooling so hard he could feel it trail down his chin. 

He had no idea how long it had been. Seconds, minutes, or maybe hours of frantic sucking passed before he felt Dracula start to come down. The rock hard thigh under his hand relaxed, softening to the touch, and the sharp arch of his body sunk back down onto the throne. Geralt let the balls he was still caressing drop from his now aching jaw, and he pulled up enough to look at Alucard. 

The younger vampire was just pulling away too, as Dracula’s softening cock took its sweet, obscenely long time to slide all the way out. It finally popped out with a soft gasp from Alucard. His lips were wet and open as he delivered a series of kitten licks to the cock that just spent itself down his throat. With a groan, Geralt angled in for a kiss, taking over Alucard’s lips, licking into his mouth, and tasting Dracula’s come and skin there. He felt Alucard panting hard into their kiss, obviously trying to regain his breathing after the way Dracula fucked his throat. 

Geralt was floating high. He was so pleased with himself that even the unsatisfied ache of his own cock was not a concern right now. His ears rang with the sounds they made Dracula make, the irrevocable victory.

When he felt Dracula move, he expected him to pay attention to Alucard. Geralt was just a visitor here, it was Alucard that held Dracula’s love. He was surprised when the hand around the nape of his neck tightened harshly and pulled him up, out of the kiss with Alucard and onto Dracula’s body. 

He had to scrabble to keep up, hands sliding on the smooth skin and hard muscle as he was pulled right to Dracula’s level. Then he was kissed with a fierceness that fit more to hunting than sex, as if Dracula wanted to fuck him with his tongue, possess him, own him with just a kiss. 

The other hand on his hip was surprising. It pushed and pulled until Geralt found himself sitting sideways on the leg he was holding onto until now. He floundered, surprised, and oddly taken aback by the position. It was less sexual than he expected yet so much more exposed at the same time. His side was resting against Dracula’s powerful chest, one arm trapped between them, the other grappling for purchase. Geralt shivered at the way his earlier elation and sense of power fled, pushed away by uncertainty and, oddly enough, vulnerability. 

Something about the position made him feel young, inexperienced, like a greenhorn learning at the knee of the master. The thought made him both chucke into the kiss as well as shiver ever so slightly.

Movement to his left made him pull away from the devouring kiss and look at Alucard. The younger vampire was watching him with darkened eyes and swollen, plush lips. He could see the way his golden eyes flicked quickly over Geralt’s new position perched on Dracula’s knee. Then Geralt watched as Alucard nudged Dracula’s legs further apart, making space for himself, and _mirrored Geralt’s position_. 

Slowly, with grace unique to himself, Alucard perched himself on Dracula’s other knee, his legs brushing against Geralt’s as he tried to fit them into the limited space. His clothes glowed gently, unraveling slowly into streamers of light that flickered out of existence within moments of raising off of Alucard’s skin, leaving him gloriously naked. 

Alucard’s golden eyes flicked to Geralt again, so clearly checking in with him that it made something hot and brittle flare up in his chest. As close as he was tucked against Dracula’s chest, he could feel more than hear the hitched way Dracula’s breathing stuttered at the sight. Geralt could barely twitch without brushing against somebody. His legs were so tangled with Alucard that his knee ended up between the younger vampire’s legs. He could feel the heat of Alucard’s body, the other man’s balls pressed close to Geralt’s knee. He watched the hard arch of Alucard’s cock. It was already wet at the tip and pressing against his belly as Alucard shifted trying to find purchase on his perch.

“My good little wolves,” Dracula rumbled, pleasure and possessiveness thick in his voice as he moved. Geralt startled, when he felt the hand clenched on the back of his neck move down, sliding smoothly down his back, past the dip of his waist, and pushing under the tight fit of his pants. He cursed, jerking, and scrambled to open his pants, not wanting Dracula to cut those off of him, too.

Geralt just barely managed to loosen his laces when he felt the hand push between his cheeks and fingers press at his still aching and swollen hole. He hissed and jerked his hips helplessly as Dracula pushed two fingers inside him. Dry and rough, they went in, slowly sending zings of liquid heat up his back, into his cock, and curling around his balls. He groaned and wrapped his own hand around his cock, squeezing hard. Everything was still so sensitive. His body had not yet fully recovered from what they did, and every sensation seemed magnified and made a thousand times better.

“So pretty, both of you,” Dracula said softly. Across from him, Alucard’s breath hitched and his hips jerked. His cock spilt a little precome and smeared it on his belly, and Geralt knew Dracula did the same to him. Geralt’s breath hitched at the knowledge that Dracula had his fingers in both of them, was fucking both of them slowly with his fingers; a third one now pressing against his rim, searching for entry.

“Fuck,” Geralt cursed. A shine of sweat appeared on his skin and his heart pounded from the utter hotness of it all. He gave himself another squeeze, feeling the pleasure ramp up exponentially as he instinctively tightened on the fingers inside him. 

He couldn’t take his eyes away from Alucard. How he tensed trying to hold on to the leg he was sitting on. On his belly clenching rhythmically, in time with Dracula’s thrusts into him, Geralt guessed. His cock was pink and so hard, all abandoned and desperate for stimulation. 

Geralt couldn’t stand it. He leaned forward, catching himself on Alucard’s shoulder to keep them both steady, and wrapping his other hand around that lovely dick. It was slick and hot in his grasp and Alucard made the most amazing sound as he surged up to slot his mouth against Geralt’s, sucking on his tongue like a starving man.

“Yes,” Dracula hissed right into his ear, licking it before moving down to place a line of sharp, nipping bites to Geralt’s stretched neck. “Do it, bring each other off. Right here, on my lap, while I fuck you both with my fingers.” That third finger pushed in, stretching Geralt ruthlessly. It was all so good, so fucking good. The position, the exposure, the sight of Alucard writhing on the fingers inside him. He gasped and groaned into the sloppy kiss as he felt Alucard’s own hand wrap enthusiastically around his own length, dragging his sword callused grip over the sensitive flesh.

It really didn’t take long after that. With Alucard’s other hand clinging desperately to Geralt’s shoulder, the three of them creating an intimate, hot space filled with the scent of their sex and sweat. With the hand on his cock and the fingers fucking him steadily, deeply, pressing everywhere he liked, Geralt soon found himself sweating and shaking. His orgasm crashed through him like an avalanche. It stole his breath, his vision, and forced his body to clench over and over as both his lovers milked the orgasm out of him with steady hands and hot lips.

When he came back to himself, he realized that Alucard came too. The younger vampire was still thrusting lazily into the wet grip Geralt had on him, his face flushed and eyes heavy lidded. His hair was a mess again. It fell all over his shoulders and clung to Geralt’s sweaty skin where they were pressed together.

“So pretty,” Dracula whispered to them, pressing kisses to what he could reach of Geralt’s face and neck before moving to Alucard and lavishing his attention there. He seemed lazy and pleased to do this, just kiss and gently bite at them both. His fingers were still pressed deep into Geralt, but were no longer moving. “So good for me.”

The praise and attention felt so good. Geralt let himself bask in it and sunk into the arm Dracula had around his back.

Alucard made a tiny huff and wrinkled his nose before pulling away from the tight, intimate tangle of their bodies. Somehow he was the one that ended up with most of the mess on him. There was come smeared over his chest and belly, as well as down his leg; his own and Geralt’s probably. Geralt on the other hand had managed to stay fairly clean of the mess.

“You are mad,” Alucard said with a shake of his head. His limbs were a little shaky as he untangled himself from them, naked and beautiful. The long scar across his chest was the only mark on him. “But I have to admit I like some of your ideas.”

Geralt laughed, unwilling to move. The limited contact of the position rankled at him, especially when his skin was still tingling with the aftershocks of his orgasm.

 _Fuck it_ , he thought and went in for a cuddle. He hissed as his movement caused the fingers inside him to slip out, leaving his hole pulsing and trying to close on nothing. Geralt climbed up on the throne. The chair was wide enough that he could easily brace his knees on both sides of Dracula and snuggle up to his chest. It was warm and soft; Dracula wrapped his arms around Geralt with a pleased little rumble and let him tuck himself into his shoulder. Geralt did his best impression of a purr and let himself just drift, happy and sated.

Distantly he heard Alucard moving around. There was the clink of something and then the splashing of water.

“So fastidious,” Dracula teased, one of his hands tracing lazy patterns against Geralt’s thigh.

“I’m not an animal like you both,” came the dry response, as well as more splashing. “Why did I end up with all this mess anyway?” he grumped, but even Geralt could hear that it was just play pretend.

“Hmm,“ Dracula rumbled, shifting to rub his cheek against the side of Geralt’s face. “It’s because you like being fucked by animal’s like us,” he said with a bit of challenge to his words.

Alucard laughed out loud, his steps coming closer.

“I guess you are right.” Geralt felt another hand in his hair, gentle and petting him with long, careful strokes. He hummed his appreciation.

Alucard.

“If you want something, just ask,” Dracula said after a moment.

Alucard exhaled loud and long, clearly considering.

“I would like to see you take Geralt again,” he said in a voice that was just a little bit strangled. The want shined through, for once. “In this chair. Now.”

Geralt could feel the effect those words had on Dracula. There was a brief tension in his body before he relaxed into the chair again.

“What do you say, Geralt?” Dracula asked, voice low and velvety smooth, like pure sin. “Do you feel like taking me in right now, when you are oversensitive and sated, feeling me fuck you, stretch you, stuff you full of my cock when you have no hope of getting hard again, much less coming so soon?”

The shiver those words sent down his back was just unreal. Dracula’s particular brand of challenge and promise sparked something deep inside him.

“Alucard’s a generous lover. I bet he would help matters along,” Dracula said. He moved his hands to Geralt’s ass and squeezed, the movement pulling at his already sore hole. “With his mouth, too.“

This time both Geralt and Alucard groaned.

“I could lick you,” Alucard said in a breathy kind of voice. “Get you wet for him.” 

As if Geralt even needed more encouragement.

Dracula was right, he wouldn’t get hard right now, not after the previous night. He wouldn’t come, but the thought of feeling Dracula get inside him, push in that thick cock again and stretch him, fill him, fuck him again until Geralt was dripping with his come was a surprisingly attractive choice. He would be leaving soon, he knew, and the idea of taking something as primal as an ass full of come as a souvenir was not a bad one. Besides, it was the first thing Alucard asked of him yet.

“Yeah,“ he murmured, trying to straighten himself up from his slouch. “Yeah alright, let’s do this.”

Dracula rumbled again, so deep in his chest Geralt could feel it in his bones.

“Get me hard then, little wolf,” he challenged, letting Geralt rearrange himself.

“Wait,” Alucard whispered, pressing close and kissing the back of Geralt’s neck. “He’ll shred your pants if you don’t let me get them off first.” His hands were on Geralt’s hips, pulling him back and up, off of Dracula’s lap.

Geralt looked down into the vampires red eyes and saw the laughter there. Yes, Dracula fully intended to shred those pants. He swallowed, remembering the feel of those wicked sharp claws on his skin, so careful and so deadly at the same time, and felt a trickle of fire curl around his groin. He wouldn’t mind feeling that again, but he couldn’t be sure if he could get another pair. So with a groan he backed away and off of Dracula’s lap. His knees were surprisingly watery as he stood up and he had to catch onto Dracula’s armored shoulders until he could firm his stance again. Dracula never took his red, unreadable eyes off of him. He looked as if he wanted to read into Geralt’s very soul. There was a smirk around his lips, though; a pleased aura that made Geralt snort.

“Yeah, laugh it up,” Geralt said, then he shuddered at the feel of Alucard’s hands curling around the waistband of his pants. He braced himself as he felt Alucard start to pull the supple leather down his legs, spending way more time than necessary on smoothing down Geralt’s thighs, feeling where the muscles were still tender and shivery after his orgasm. “Bet you weren’t the most coordinated person after we were finished with you.”

The smirk grew more pronounced and Dracula raised his arms, touching Geralt’s naked hips. Then he slid his hands to Geralt’s soft cock, cupping it and the balls in his big, warm palm.

“I said nothing.” The pressure was nice; gentle enough not to hurt his oversensitive flesh yet firm enough he had the pleasant sensation of snugness and oddly enough, safety.

Alucard worked fast, divesting him of his boots and his pants. Then cool hands directed him to lift first one leg then the other. It was heady, being the focus of so much attention. Alucard’s hands were soft on him, smoothing down his muscles, and oh so careful as they pulled his clothes away. At least the pants, some hysterically amused part of Geralt’s mind announced, because he still had all the rest of his gear on him, included his swords.

He didn’t get the chance to laugh though, because the moment he lost the pants, Dracula let go of Geralt’s privates, grabbed him under his ass, and hauled him up back into his lap. Geralt went easy, fitting his knees on both sides of Dracula. The throne was wide enough for that position and the thick, red coat provided padding for his knees. 

As soon as he was settled, he leaned down. Geralt kissed Dracula the best he knew how, licking into him, sucking on his lips until they were both licking into each other mouths. He spread his hands on that naked, wide chest that was so temptingly exposed. As he rubbed at those flat, pale nipples, he thought he would like to suck on them some. There was the feather light sensation of Alucard moving behind him. Then hands touched his ass and spread his cheeks open, hard enough to pull at his hole, and sent a fissure of pleasure to his belly. 

As Alucard held him open, Geralt explored the rigid flat plane of Dracula’s stomach. Dracula had to have been a powerhouse of a man even while human; his body was so powerfully built. Geralt admired it as he worked his way down to the still damp cock he had in his mouth not so long ago. He wrapped both hands around it and pulled gently, hand over hand, providing constant stimulation. Even soft it was a respectable handful and he could feel it twitching and growing under his attention. A moment after that, he had to break the kiss and arch his neck, gasping in surprise at the slick, wet tongue that stabbed into his hole.

Alucard still had him spread open with his fingers and was licking into him without preamble; he just thrust in deep stabs with his tongue, spreading saliva all over that oversensitive pucker. Geralt squirmed as pleasure lashed up his spine and spread without focusing on his cock. It was both strange and unexpectedly good to be pleasured that way when he wasn’t hard, when the sensation was just that, pleasure without a goal and without a possible end, too.

“Fuck, yes,“ he groaned, thinking he would be spoiled for other lovers after this.

Dracula rumbled something. His eyes were still focused on Geralt as if he was a battlefield he needed to conquer. Then he put his hand against the side of Geralt’s neck and pulled him down into a kiss, fucking Geralt’s mouth with his tongue the same way Alucard was fucking Geralt’s ass. Geralt whimpered and sucked hard on the tongue invading him. He couldn’t help how his hips pushed back, against Alucard; against that wet, hot mouth and the tongue doing its best to stretch him.

Dracula was hard again; the shaft firm and the head fat and wide against the palm of Geralt’s hand. His heartbeat sped up at the thought of putting that inside him. At the thought of it stretching him again.

When Dracula’s other hand locked on his hip, urging him up, he went without protest, putting his arms around those armored shoulders and holding on for leverage. Still, the moment he felt the wide head press against his ass he expected Alucard to pull away. He did not expect him to lick harder, wetter, around that place where he and Dracula met. Geralt whined when he felt the pressure, the slickness of Alucard’s tongue, and how his sore rim gave in under the steady push. Spreading. Stretching. Letting that fat cock in.

Geralt shuddered. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he made himself sink down all the way. The stretch, the burn, and the pleasure mixed up inside of him and pushed him higher than he thought he could go from just that. It was hard to breathe around how Dracula was kissing him; like it was going to be the end of the world if Geralt didn’t have his mouth occupied for one single second.

He braced himself and rose up on his knees, whining at the drag of Dracula’s cock pulling out of him. It was chased by the sensation of Alucard licking everything he could reach, both Geralt and Dracula. He laved over them both with his tongue with a single minded focus. 

The position was a bit precarious and Geralt felt more than a little wobbly, but he rode Dracula as best as he could. He bore down with every downward thrust until he was flush with Dracula’s legs, taking him in as deep as possible, and clenching tightly to squeeze that hard flesh. A helpless moan slipped out right around the tongue in his mouth. All his senses were overwhelmed with the pleasure assaulting him from every corner and the slow drag of that thick flesh inside him.

Dracula didn’t acquiescence to Geralt’s tempo for long though. Soon his hand, hard and bruising, locked on to Geralt’s hip, slamming him down as Dracula’s hips snapped up. Driving that cock harder, deeper inside him and forcing Geralt’s breath out with every damn thrust. Geralt was sweating from the effort, panting and almost dizzy from the lack of air as they fucked. All the while, Alucard held onto Geralt’s thighs and licked the sanity right out of him.

When Dracula came he made the most amazing sound; a deep growl that he breathed right into the kiss. The hand on Geralt’s hip tightened to a bruising grip as his cock swelled and spurted shot after shot of come inside Geralt. He could feel the hot spurts filling him up. The sound their bodies were making became wetter, more obscene, for long moments before Dracula finally started softening. Dracula’s wide chest expanded in time with his own quickened breaths, and Geralt felt immense smugness at doing this, at making Dracula lose it so fast. 

He meant to say something, to tease, but that was the moment Dracula’s cock slipped out of him. Alucard did not pull away as Geralt expected him to. Instead he dove in again, licking deep and fast into Geralt. The sensation made him jerk in surprise and he moaned at the feel of that cool, slick tongue at his sore hole, licking in deep. Licking Dracula’s come right out of him. Geralt moaned again, lower and more desperate, and rested his forehead against Dracula. His breath came out in short pants. God’s they were going to ruin him, kill him, spoil him for anybody else.

When Alucard pulled away, Geralt thought it was finally over. Maybe his heartbeat would have a chance to calm down finally. But then he felt the full body shudder that Dracula did under him, saw his head arch back, and all those long tendons in his neck stood out in sharp relief.

Geralt blinked. Alucard was still moving behind him; his hair tickled along Geralt’s naked ass as he apparently switched his attention to Dracula now.

It was hot, too hot, watching the unguarded look of pleasure and surprise on Dracula. Impossible to sit through and just observe. So Geralt dove in for that exposed neck, biting with his blunt human teeth, and sucking whatever skin he could reach.

He had no idea how much time passed while they levied attention on Dracula. It was mesmerizing the way he let them lavish that touch on him, how almost soft he looked under their hands, and how careful his hands were on Geralt’s body.

Eventually Alucard got tired and pushed up. He straightened and put a hand on Geralt’s back.

“I promised you would see Ciri soon,” Alucard murmured, just running his hands over Geralt’s body.

“Yes,” Dracula said. Something about the odd tone in his voice made Geralt look up, and he was met with red eyes that burned brighter than before.

Dracula put his hand around Geralt’s jaw again and pulled him into a kiss. Geralt went easy, malleable and tired, and he opened to receive Dracula the way the vampire obviously liked. When instead of tongue he felt the first trickle of power enter him, he was surprised but he swallowed it down, the burn familiar by now. 

Only the trickle turned into a river out of nowhere, pouring down his throat, scorching him, _hurting_ him. Geralt tried to jerk back, dizzy and burning up. Every sense reeled as the pain crested and grew with no end in sight. His body couldn’t deal with it, the rage and desire in that power, and the ever burning darkness. 

But Dracula didn’t _let_ him. The gentle hand on his jaw became a vice and the hand on his hip pulled him in closer. Dracula surged up into the kiss, pouring _even more_ power into Geralt. Pain triggered instinct trained into him from a very young age and Geralt reached for the sword over his shoulder. The power felt like liquid fire; it was _too much, too terrifying_.

Dracula was faster.

He beat Geralt to the handle and jerked the sword out of the scabbard faster than Geralt could, cutting his palm in the process. A second later he made it disappear right out of his hand. Geralt whined wordlessly, thrashing, burning, _dying_. It felt as if his very soul was torn asunder, but he couldn’t get away. His body was a live wire. Pleasure and pain rose up, mixing and cresting high together, confusing his senses. Terrible ecstasy and endless agony pushed all rational thought out of his mind.


	6. Chapter 6

“Enough!” The word was sharp like a whip, cracking through the air and Geralt felt hands around his shoulders, yanking him back and away. He fell, and as he moved his body arched hard. A scream tore out of his throat as he came and his body felt like nothing but an exposed nerve.

He felt himself collide with Alucard, felt them go down onto the floor. Alucard cradled him in his lap protectively as Geralt sobbed and came again. Each time his body arched up as if electrocuted, confused and helpless. Fire was crawling over his skin, under it, inside and out. He didn't know what was happening. Didn't even know if it hurt or if it felt good. Any second now he would surely go mad with it. He screamed again and felt Alucard's hand around his cock. Not stroking, just holding, giving him something to rut against and come again. Maybe. Probably. He didn’t know. He was blind with this overpowering sensation, and his body kept jerking and arching, pulsing with the sheer madness that raced through his veins.

“Shhh.” Alucard was curled over him, his body and his hair a shield against the world surrounding Geralt. “Just let it pass.” He was being rocked, surrounded by the smell and presence of the younger vampire. “It will pass, I swear.”

It took a long time to come down from that, to regain his senses while the dark power Dracula forced into him burned just under his skin, deep in his soul. Never before had Geralt been more viscerally reminded of the witcher trials he’d been through. The pain, the overwhelming sensation, and how it took over every part of his body. He was blind from it, deaf, unable to tell if he was screaming or just trying to. His eyes burned; it could have been tears or blood leaking down his face, he couldn’t know. It was like every fiber of his being had been filled up with power, every cell charged and vibrating with the energy inside of him.

He gasped and writhed, too weak to escape and terribly grateful that he couldn’t. All that was holding him together was Alucard’s hands and body, on and over him, giving him something to focus on, helping him breath through the lightning like charge.

Little by little, details came back to him, whispering over the screaming throb of his body. The light tickle of Alucard’s hair around him, sheltering him. The soft, gentle grip of Alucard’s hands, and the press of lips against his throat. The way their clothes dug into each other, armor and weapons alike pressed into his agonizingly raw skin.

Geralt took a long, slow, shuddering breath that ended up coming out more like a sob. His hands twitched and he nudged them towards Alucard, clumsily wrapping his fingers in soft silver hair and a warm blue coat. He tried to blink his eyes, tried to bring the world back to his sight, but there was still nothing but stars and blurring shapes.

None of it mattered, because Alucard was there, holding him, cradling him as if he were precious.

“This will pass,” Alucard said. “Just breathe. Feel my arms around you. Let it go.”

He tried, he really did, but his body still felt seized, wound up and held impossibly tight. All he could do was shudder.

The burning power died down a bit more, and Geralt’s breath came a bit steadier. Slowly, one muscle at a time, he felt his body give way and relax into Alucard’s hold. He dropped his head down, surprised to find himself curled in Alucard’s lap. Alucard’s _armored_ lap, no less. Somewhere in whatever had happened, the young vampire had summoned his clothing and gear.

On a better day, Geralt probably would have squirmed with glee at being wrapped up in that heavily armored embrace, feeling the sharpened claws of Alucard’s gauntlets holding him steady. But now all he could feel was blessed, immense relief.

He curled in tighter, trying to burrow away from the aftershocks still racing through him. Time stretched away as they sat together, and slowly but surely, Geralt’s body calmed.

“What the hell,” Geralta asked shakily, throat dry as a desert. He and Alucard were alone, Dracula nowhere in sight.

“My Father’s affection can often be brutal,” Alucard murmured, still cradling him on his lap and carding his fingers through Geralt’s hair.

Geralt wanted to lean into the careful petting, but everything still felt too raw. His body ached, more so than even after their night long lovemaking. More so than anything else Geralt could think of. Again, he was reminded of the trials, though at least here he hadn’t started hallucinating.

His breaths came out in short pants as he slowly flexed his fingers and toes in an attempt to bring his body back into some semblance of functionality. It hurt to move, but at least now he _could_ move, even if it was only a little. He used what little locomotion he had to curl more firmly into Alucard’s chest.

Geralt licked his lips and took stock of himself. Nothing was damaged, he didn’t think at least. Hard to tell right then, but with every passing second he felt better.

That didn’t mean he actually wanted to move, though.

“If it’s any consolation, he probably wouldn’t have done it if I wasn’t here,” Alucard said quietly, running his fingers gently through Geralt’s hair.

“Done what? What did he do to me Alucard?” Gods, but it still hurt to talk. His throat was dry as a decades dead stream bed, and he ached for a skin of water.

Alucard was quiet for a long time, eyes shadowed.

“I don’t know.”

Geralt closed his eyes and tried to steady his heartbeat. “He trusted you to stop him. When he went too far. That’s why he wouldn’t have done it if you weren’t here.”

“I can never tell if he actually plans those things because he knows something, or if it is all gut feeling with him.” Alucard sighed, seemingly willing to stay there with Geralt as long as was needed.

It took several more long minutes for Geralt to feel even close to being able to move, and even then his body still protested something fierce.

“Do you ever actually talk with him?” Geralt finally asked, both honestly curious and a tiny bit exasperated.

Alucard snorted.

“Oh we talk, we talk a lot.” He shook his head. “It’s just never any _help._ ”

A small, choking laugh shook Geralt’s shoulders, but only for a moment. Just that little shake sent bolts of pain through his back and down his chest. “No. Don’t make me laugh. It hurts,” he mock-complained. After another few measured breaths, he added, “You know. I’m sort of sorry I missed you redressing.”

Alucard make a sound oddly reminiscent of the tea kettle whistle he caught from him earlier and lowered his head so that their foreheads touched.

“It scared the living daylights out of me, when I felt him open up the power transfer like that. And when you struggled…I wasn’t thinking straight.”

It took more effort than Geralt cared to admit, and his hand trembled like mad, but he was able to reach up and stroke the line of Alucard’s jaw. “Thank you, pretty wolf.”

He left unsaid the thousand things that he wanted to say thanks for. For him stopping Dracula. For being there at all. For being willing to get involved, both with physical intimacy as well as in this particular moment of conflict.

For holding him through the pain that followed.

It occurred to Geralt that it must be terrifying, loving someone who straddled the thin line between light and shadow. To know that at any moment the balance could be tipped in unexpected directions.

“I am very glad we ended up here,” Geralt said softly. “No matter why, or what comes of it. I’m glad.”

Alucard closed his eyes and bowed his head.

“Thank you,” he murmured. But Geralt was struck by the realisation that Alucard didn’t truly believe his words, or at least didn’t think they would hold true for long.

As if Geralt hadn’t spent the last day or two convincing both Dracula and Alucard that he was more persistent than they knew. His lips tugged into a small, sad smile. They’d learn. It might take them a while, but they’d figure just how resolute Geralt could be.

He didn’t hear Dracula coming back, he _felt_ him. Like a sensation of pins and needles all over his body, the awareness of him close was overwhelming. 

It took Geralt a moment to properly focus on him as he approached. It wasn’t that Dracula had changed, it was that now Geralt saw so much more. The details were all there, just as they had been when they first walked into the throne room, but each physical part of Dracula’s body somehow radiated with shadow. Geralt couldn’t even tell how he saw it, only that he knew it was there, stretching past them, through the room, and out into the castle. 

The armored boots and the embroidered bottom of coat gently swaying with his measured steps was the first thing he really saw. For a long time all he could do was stare stupidly at the legs coming up towards him. Finally he dragged his eyes up to the armored belt, the clawed hands, and then higher, over the naked chest and finally to the face that was both familiar and unreadable. Those red eyes watched him with a hooded kind of regard, focused but unwilling to betray the the thoughts behind the cool facade.

Geralt looked up at him and watched the power move behind Dracula’s eyes, took in how the very fabric of the hall they sat in seemed to be tied to him. 

He couldn’t find it in himself to be angry, any more than he would have been furious at a rainstorm for getting him wet. Even his confusion was fleeting, because already he knew that Dracula was a being of passion, and those passions could turn dark and painful at a seconds notice. For a moment, all he could do was stare in acceptance.

Geralt knew what he was getting in to, even if the details were a bit surprising. And Dracula, while volatile, had done his best to keep safeguards in place.

That’s when Geralt realized it. 

_They had done it_. They had shattered Dracula’s control enough that he couldn’t contain himself, he couldn’t stop from using all of his being to love them and pleasure them all.

A slow, filthy smirk spread across Geralt’s face, and turned into a ridiculous, knowing grin. He’d never felt so smug.

The vampire stopped just beside them, so close Geralt could touch his shins if he stretched his hand out.

There was a clang and a chime of a thin chain unfolding. When Geralt traced the sound to Dracula’s left hand, he saw a thick silver pendant hanging from his grasp. 

“You won a boon out of me,” Dracula said in that low, slightly raspy voice of his. “I think this will do.”

He tossed the pendant lightly and it landed on Geralt’s chest. The pendant itself was heavy and tingled with magic.

It took another massive effort, but Geralt managed to untangle a hand from Alucard’s coat and run a finger over the pendant. The moment he touched it, it sang through his senses, like a bell that was almost too high to hear. 

“Thank you,” he said, voice still rough as hell. “What does it do?”

“It’s a bridge. It connects wherever you are to this castle.”

Bright, ridiculous joy filled Geralt up to the brim. He could come back, any time he pleased no less. Not only was the idea of having an escape route from anywhere right around his neck fantastically appealing, it also meant that Dracula, and in turn Alucard, would see him again. As often as he wished it, too.

He couldn’t wipe the smile off his face, and didn’t even bother trying. 

“Oh Gods, I may never walk straight again,” he said in a low whisper. The words were out of his mouth before his brain even had a say in the matter, and he could feel Alucard’s chagrin. 

“Not if I wring your neck,” Alucard murmured.

That brought another painful chuckle out of Geralt, and he bumped his forehead against Alucard’s jaw. “It won’t be that bad, don’t worry,” he said gently. “I still have jobs to do, as I’m sure you two have duties as well. But it is a relief to know that I’ll be able to visit without bribing Ciri with more treats than I can afford.”

Dracula watched him with dark eyes, a sliver of surprise breaking through. Geralt could sense the shadows easing around him, lightning just a little. His eyes travelled from Geralt to Alucard and back again.

“You are not acting as I expected of you,” Dracula said slowly, still watching him and Alucard thoughtfully.

Geralt looked at him, consideringly, and then lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Apparently, I’m a bit odd. Many have said so.” He took a look down at himself, finally remembering that he was still nude from the waist down. Not only that, but his bare thighs and groin were liberally stained with come from his unexpected releases during the power exchange. Given that both Alucard and Dracula were in their regular armor and clothes, Geralt was starting to feel a little underdressed. 

He knew his body well enough to know that he wouldn’t be standing up on his own any time soon. Everything just hurt too damn much. 

“Would you help me dress?” Geralt asked. He made sure to look at both Dracula and Alucard. The last thing he wanted was for Dracula to feel like he wasn’t wanted, or that Geralt wouldn’t trust him while in such a vulnerable state. Not only that, but Geralt had the sneaking suspicion that Dracula still wasn’t over whatever had chased him off to brood in the throne room to begin with. A little extra touching might do the man good. 

Besides, it wasn’t like Geralt couldn’t use the help, or wasn’t thrilled to be held by them both.

Again, a flicker of surprise showed in Dracula’s face. 

It only lasted a moment, though. Then he knelt down next to them, his armored greaves making not even a whisper of a sound on the stone floor. The dark energy that surrounded him increased for a moment, making Geralt’s eyes hurt and his vision swim. 

Out of the blackness, clawed hands held out a wet cloth. Without even a glance, Dracula took the cloth and then waved his free hand, dismissing the black energy around them. 

He leaned in and slowly and wrapped a hand around the back of Geralt’s neck, cradling him in his grasp. Geralt’s eyes fluttered closed. Even with as sensitive as he was, aching and sore in a million ways, that hand on his neck felt like a precious comfort. Like he was treasured. 

Gently, Dracula began to clean Geralt’s skin, wiping him down with hot towel. The wet, rough fabric felt like knives on his over-sensitive skin. Geralt didn’t have the strength to try and move away from it, but he couldn’t stop the shudders that went through him. He cringed, pressing his neck into Dracula’s hand and the side of his face into Alucard’s shoulder. 

“You’ve done so well, little wolf,” Dracula said softly. He squeezed Geralt’s neck, reassuring him. “Almost done.”

The cleaning only lasted another minute longer, and then Geralt’s legs and groin were left bare. The cool air on his damp skin actually felt fairly amazing, easing the ache that still filled him. Fuck, he’d run and fought for actual days straight and hadn’t been this sore. 

He almost dreaded trying to get his pants on. Once he was laced up, Geralt thought he would be fine, they were made to be both comfortable and effective, after all. But actually shimmying into his leathers sounded like torture. 

But then Dracula raised his hand again. Something crawled up out of the floor, out of the shadows that clung to Dracula’s whole body, and swarmed around his hand. If pressed, Geralt probably would have guessed blood, but from what creature he had no idea. It shined black, and stank of smoke and metal. 

Before Geralt could do more than blink, the twisting miasma flowed out of Dracula’s hand and down to cover Geralt’s legs. It twisted and writhed, circling around his body in a warm frenzy. Only a moment after it started, it was gone, leaving Geralt’s legs encased in his regular charcoal leather pants and boots. He was still sore, still rubbed to rawness and burnt from the inside out, but the clothing was hot and soothing to the touch. Hot enough that he could feel some of the strain start to loosen out of his legs. Even most of the smoke smell had disappeared, leaving only the faintest hint of ash under the smell of hide.

Surprising.

He raised his eyebrows at Dracula, asking without actually saying anything.

All he got in return was a small twitch of the lips. “Where do you think the other set came from?”

Geralt snorted in amusement, and then narrowed his eyes. “Does this mean you can make my pants disappear whenever you want?”

Alucard let out a pained groan, and hung his head. “Do you think of nothing else?”

“It’s an important question,” Geralt said in his defense. 

That actually netted him a small smirk from Dracula, and Geralt counted it as a win. 

It didn’t last for long, though, because soon Dracula was gazing into Geralt’s face like he was trying to discern some hidden truth.

Geralt waited him out. After all, sitting sandwiched between them both and curled up in Alucard’s lap seemed like a great place to be, especially since he still felt vaguely awful. 

A few more minutes stretched by and Geralt raised an eyebrow.

“You haven’t asked about your sword.” Dracula’s voice sounded grim. Measuring, almost. After what felt like days and days of this kind of behavior, this _testing_ almost, Geralt wasn’t surprised at all. He was starting to feel mildly amused, actually. Perhaps even a bit sorry for them, Alucard and Dracula both. If what Alucard had said was true, they’d both been through the wringer. No wonder they didn’t take anything at face value.

The truth was that Geralt had noticed his sword was gone, flung away from him in the heat of the moment, and it bothered the shit out of him. He went everywhere with his swords. He lived by them. Other people lived, or died, by them and his skill. They were more than just tools, they were his life’s trade. He very much needed his fucking sword. 

But he’d also done the monumentally stupid thing of drawing a blade on the King of Hell. Not that Geralt had planned to do so, or, hell, even consciously decided to. It was instinct once again getting him into trouble. Too many years of fighting. When his body had overloaded on pain, his hand went to his sword, regardless of the fact that he _knew_ he couldn’t do a damn thing to Dracula, not with any kind of blade. 

He took a steadying breath and squared his jaw, tilting his chin up to look Dracula in the eye. “I do need that, and I’d planned on asking for it before we left.”

Geralt didn’t apologize for drawing it. Stupid or not, ineffectual or not, most sane things went for their weapons when they were actually being killed. 

But he also didn’t ask for an apology, nor did he expect one. Dracula was defending himself. It was just of him to knock the blade away.

“Before you left. But not now.” It was spoken like a statement, but was clearly a question. 

“I have no need for it here,” Geralt said firmly, but then he couldn’t help but feel the smallest bit of...perhaps not uncertainty. Not even fear. Or at least not fear of death or danger. Perhaps fear of rejection, maybe. Whatever it was, it caused his jaw to clench up, tight as a trap. “Do I?” he asked entreatingly. 

Dracula just blinked at him in astonishment, while Alucard turned his head down, face buried in Geralt’s hair.

“How…” Alucard started to say, and then bit back on the words with a shake. “You’re mad.”

“Your harm is not my goal,” Dracula said quietly. His keen gaze roamed across Geralt’s face and down his body, soft and hungry. 

_Oh._

That couldn’t be what it sounded like. It couldn’t. Geralt’s heart cracked a little bit, and pain lanced through him. He struggled to think things through, to prise the meaning from Dracula’s words, but he couldn’t help but lean on his past experience.

That phrase brought back the memory of countless disappointments. How many times had he heard something similar? How many times had avid lovers assured him they never wanted to hurt him, and then promptly broken things off. A long term relationship would only result in heartache, after all. They never wanted Geralt to get invested, because they certainly weren’t. It was only about the pleasure of the moment, and that was all it would ever be.

The first few times it had happened, he’d been crushed. There had been a handful of people here and there who he thought might not mind his life’s work, his uniqueness. But when the end came, they always tried to let him down gently. 

After those first few times, he’d drowned his sorrows in enough booze that even his impressive stamina had been obliterated. Then he’d hardened his heart and realized that lasting relationships weren’t for the likes of him.

In the end, _I don’t want to hurt you,_ was just a euphemism for _You were a fun lay, but you shouldn’t get invested because I’m not._

He wasn't sure why it hurt so damn much now to hear the thing he’d been expecting all along anyways. 

Geralt dropped his eyes and stared at the pendant in his hand. So what if Dracula only wanted sex? He, they, still wanted to see Geralt again. Just being here had brightened their days; it was obvious. It was better that his ridiculous, half formed hopes for _more_ were crushed now, that way they could all proceed to have a fun time, unburdened by expectation.

With that in mind, he buried this new ache in his chest under all the physical pain, and remembered to enjoy the moment. 

His lips tugged into a smile as he thumbed the warm silver in his hand. They’d had a good deal of fun. The smile turned warmer and wider, and he looked at Dracula from under his lashes.

Geralt would be happy and enjoy himself while he could, then as soon as they were home he was going to get blackout drunk.

Dracula was looking at him, the focus he noticed before feeling like a living thing. There was a shadow of a frown, or maybe just a suggestion of it on his face.

“My servants inform me they know what's wrong with your woman.” Dracula was pulling back and up, whatever softness Geralt saw before, gone. 

_His woman?_

Geralt snorted. “Never let her hear you call her that, it’ll be my ass that gets roasted. Ciri belongs to herself, and I’d never ask different of her.” He shook his head. “What’s wrong with her?”

That earned him another odd look from Dracula, but at this point Geralt was starting to get used to it. “Go and find out,” Dracula said with a wave towards the door. Then he turned and stepped towards his throne again.

Gods dammit, Geralt had just spent a great deal of effort getting him out of that chair. Besides, he still had other plans.

“Wait,” Geralt said quickly, and Dracula before he could reach his seat. “Come with us? Please? I’d like for you to meet her.”

The noise Alucard made was a strangled, pained thing, and for a moment Dracula looked both surprised and enraged. It passed quickly, though. 

“So be it,” Dracula said with a resigned sigh.

With Alucard’s help, Geralt was soon standing, and the three of them headed towards the door. Dracula led the way, but their pace was slow; slow enough that Geralt was able to walk unsteadily on his own, with only an arm slung over Alucard’s shoulders for help. He was going to be quite a sight for Ciri when she woke up, he was sure.

This time Geralt wasn’t even surprised that when Dracula pushed the massive door open, it didn’t open to a corridor leading to the throne room behind it. Nor did it even open to the banquet hall he came from. Instead it opened directly to the bedroom where he left Ciri asleep. Geralt snorted out a laugh when he realised he and Alucard let out an identical sigh as they passed the threshold. Of course the castle was falling all over itself to please Dracula.

Just because, as they stepped through the doorway Geralt touched the wall and whispered, “Thank you, castle.” 

That earned him a look from Alucard, but he ignored it. Every time the castle was cooperative instead of actively trying to kill him, Geralt was going to express appreciation.

Unlike his previous thanks, this time Geralt could almost feel the castle listening. There was a _shift_ in the energies of the place, barely perceivable, but there, like a distant wave in the far off ocean.

Interesting.

What was even more interesting he saw Dracula looking back at him as if he, too, felt the castle responding.

Before he could ponder more on that, he glanced over to where Ciri lay sleeping on the bed. 

_Surrounded by demons._ Their armored, far too numerous, twisted limbs outstretched towards her prone form. They had almost a humanoid look to them, with a recognizable chest, arms, legs, and head. But there was also something intrinsically wrong with them. Their spines were curved in the wrong way, there were too many appendages, both arms and fingers. Everything was dark, twisted, and full of jagged edges. 

Tension screamed through him, and he had to physically stop himself from leaping out. The room roared in his ears for a moment and his hands itched to do something. Grab his remaining sword, the fucking steel one gods damnit, grab a bomb, summon a sign---anything. Just seeing her surrounded by the monstrous creatures lit a fire in his brain and made him bare his teeth.

But this was Dracula’s home, and nothing bad had happened to them there. Nothing bad _would_ happen to them there. The signs he cast on her were still intact. She was _fine._

He forced himself to breath deeply, settling his heart and his body. Slowly, his muscles relaxed, though he couldn’t quite shake the prickle of unease along his neck. Geralt moved the arm he had slung over Alucard’s shoulder so that his fingers were buried in that soft, silver hair, both soothing him and reminding him. Keeping him in place.

One of the creatures slunk off the bed. Oddly jointed legs unfolded from under it, and it skittered towards Dracula. Its long body bent low to the ground. The overall impression of it was a disturbing mix of humanoid and arachnid features, and it caused Geralt to clench his hand tight on Alucard. He hated how it skittered so fast. How its armored legs click-clacked over the stone floor. 

Its four arms stretched out towards Dracula in a gesture that was half bow, half supplication. The fingers looked as sharp and dangerous as any knife, and there were far too many of them for comfort. The facial features, Geralt couldn't read at all. There was a dark armored mask, eyeless and noseless, covering the upper part of its face. The lower portion was made mostly of vicious teeth.

“My Prince,” the creature chittered. The words were spoken with the oddest cadence, like a hundred tiny pebbles skittering off a cliffside.

The other two echoed the greeting, if not the clearly slavish devotion of the one debasing itself in front of Dracula, bending so low it was all but scraping the floor. They had their multiple arms stretched out over Ciri’s sleeping form, and their featureless faces bent down towards her unconscious form.

Geralt dug his fingers a bit harder into Alucard’s hair. A tiny part of him hoped the young vampire wouldn’t be annoyed with him, but most of him was focused on staying still.

“My Prince, my Prince,” they repeated in unison, until Dracula made a gesture with his hand and they fell silent.

“You found the reason for her sleep?” Dracula prompted impatiently. The three demons nodded at once and all their featureless faces turned to regard Dracula blindly.

“When the Witch attempted to breach this dimension, the Castle walls did as they were meant to and isolated the threat.”

Dracula did not roll his eyes, but something in his impatient toss of the head told Geralt he wanted to.

“Yes, that’s pretty obvious.” The three demons cowered, chittering a wordless sound that made Geralt’s teeth ache. “Have you figured out _which_ one it is yet?”

Wordlessly, they raised their arms and released a web of dark energy. It twisted and turned, settling into a strange floating image of a vast castle. Overlaid were a million layers of different web like patterns. One in particular began to glow, shining brilliant crimson.

“Which one?” Geralt asked, confused.

“The castle grows,” Alucard responded, “and with it new wards grow all the time. There are thousands of them, sometimes layered over one another, sometimes new, other times connecting pieces of the older spells together.” He shrugged. “Only my Father can disable a ward without triggering other defences.” Alucard pointed to the display in front of them. 

“She was trying to use the Wolf passage,” Dracula said softly, studying the map. “Ironic.”

Geralt shrugged, still straining a bit to act casually. Seeing Ciri so helpless made his teeth hurt. “She might have been trying to be funny. I hear a lot of wolf jokes.”

“It’s the place where the barrier between words is weakest,” one of the demons explained suddenly. “It’s meant for mortals,” added another, twisting its blank, eyeless face towards Geralt. “The Wolf brings them here.”

“Only the invited.” They were speaking faster, words melding with each other with creepy harmony. “The guards kill the others. The Son invited. Castle obeyed. We obey. Prince, our Prince, we _obey_.”

Geralt furrowed his brow and frowned, scrambling to figure out just what the hell they were talking about. Alucard had invited them in, informed the castle that they were guests. The wolf that brought them here… were they talking about Geralt? Alucard? Something else?

He shook his head, frustrated with the cryptic speech. Gods, the elves were bad enough with their prophecy. Maybe every world had seers that just plain wouldn't name names. 

“If we arrived here, it was on accident. Neither of us were aiming for this place,” Geralt said. “Though…it wouldn’t be the first time we’ve shifted worlds.”

Dracula shook his head. “How can you not know where you are,” he wondered.

Geralt and Alucard shared a wry look.

“Doesn’t matter either way,” Dracula announced and his eyes glowed red. Not just his pupils, but the whole eye, the red light spilling onto his sclera and motes of it spilling into the air. In that moment, more than anytime before, Dracula looked like the God of Hell that Alucard called him.

Then there was a shudder that raced through the fabric of the world. A great wave of some mad power that travelled out from Dracula, passed them with a bone jarring tremor, and sank into the castle itself. It felt as if the very reality shifted around them. He could hear, or maybe just feel, a terrible clang somewhere far away, like door being shut forcefully.

Ciri gasped and her eyes shot open, staring into nothing for a moment. She twisted a bit on the bed, and then rubbed her face with both hands. When she looked up again, she must have finally registered the demons leaning over her, because in the next heartbeat she summoned her own Quen sign. The shield settled over Geralt’s own, easy as breathing. 

“Geralt?” she asked, looking around the room in alarm.

“Yes, those are demons,” he answered calmly, hoping that his lack of alarm would mean she would stay calm as well. “No, don’t try to kill them. They are helping.”

She took in the sight of all the creatures in the room, and her eyes paused to linger on Geralt’s hand in Alucard’s hair. A little wrinkle formed in her brow and she straightened. 

Geralt just grinned. He already knew what she was thinking.

Ciri narrowed her eyes, looking back and forth between Alucard and Geralt. 

“Really?” She asked dryly, one eyebrow raised, and cautiously sat up. The demons pulled away, skittering off the bed and giving her space to move. “Really, Geralt?”

He just laughed, and ambled over to the bed. Gods, walking still hurt, but it was damn good to see her up and moving, sassing him for every little thing. 

The wrinkle of worry in her brow deepened when she saw him move. The frown came back when she saw his silver sword missing and noted the faded scar on his eye. 

That didn’t stop her from returning the hug he pressed on her.

“You had me worried, girl,” he said, resting his forehead to hers, feeling the last bit of tension and worry dissipate. She was safe. She was healthy and awake. 

“Pfft, as if death could hold either of us,” she joked back. Geralt could tell it was forced, but he appreciated the effort nonetheless.

“Let me introduce you to our gracious hosts,” he said formally. 

When he looked up, though, he saw that Dracula’s face had gone unreadable. The power around him seethed, a burning twisted rage that Geralt could practically taste. 

Alucard had a very different expression. He was bemused, almost, though still standing stiff as a board.

“Ciri,” Geralt said with a wave. “This is Dracula, and his son, Alucard. Dracula, Alucard, this is my daughter, Ciri.” He couldn’t help but beam at them all when he said her name. She was his pride and joy, and Dracula and Alucard were fast becoming critically important as well.

The most noticeable reaction was Dracula and the sudden absolute stillness of the frothing power around him. It sank down, into the floor of the castle, making Geralt almost dizzy with sudden lack of pressure in the room.

“A pleasure to meet you,” Alucard said, stepping forward. The movement took his attention briefly away from Dracula and the sudden blankness of the vampire lord’s face. “Your _father_ has been worried sick about you.”

Geralt frowned at the emphasis Alucard put on the word father.

“A daughter?” Dracula said quietly, looking from Geralt to Ciri and back, as if looking for family resemblance. 

“Adopted,” he said with a sheepish shrug. “I can’t father my own, but, well---”

“He did a job for someone and got me in payment,” Ciri said with a dry smirk. 

Dracula had stayed quiet for long enough that now Geralt was starting to worry a little bit. Before he could get too worked up about it, Alucard stepped in, the picture image of grace and courtesy.

“Would you join us for some refreshment?” Alucard asked politely.

“Ha. You must have noticed how much my father likes to eat,” Ciri smirked at him, and then side-eyed Geralt. “Manners like a damn boar.”

“Manners are not what witchers are for,” Geralt said easily, falling into the old familiar argument with amusement.

“You have been a charming enough guest,” Dracula chimed in unexpectedly, stepping forward. His full focus suddenly settled Ciri and it raised the hair at Geralt’s neck. There was this immediate and uncomfortable weight to it, like being judged or stripped of secrets. In the light of just who Dracula was it made more sense than ever, but Geralt still found it disconcerting, especially when directed at Ciri.

Ciri met Dracula’s gaze much like Geralt had; head on, neither taking offence nor giving quarter. He could tell she was unsettled, though, just by looking at the set of her mouth and the line of her back. She’d always had better senses than him when it came to magic. That came with the territory of being a Source. Geralt could only guess what she could perceive about Dracula. 

“Thank you for your kind hospitality,” she said seriously, and nodded her head, never letting her eyes leave Dracula’s. 

“It has been an unexpected experience,” the vampire’s voice lowered, softened in perceptible ways and he extended his hand toward Ciri, more gallant than Geralt had seen him until now. “Let me escort you.”

Geralt raised his eyebrows, and side-eyed Ciri. She slipped out of the bed and took Dracula’s arm with trained grace. “You honor me with your kindness.”

As proud as he was of her, Geralt couldn’t help but feel like he was being shown up on all sides. Not that he was particularly frustrated by that. He was used to being the most uncouth person in the room. More, he was distinctly amused. 

Trust Ciri to know just the right thing at any given time.

He started to side-eye Alucard, his mouth curling into a smirk.

“Do not,” Alucard rumbled low, not even looking at Geralt but definitely speaking to him.

Geralt laughed, and shakily followed where Dracula and Ciri led, with Alucard falling into step with him. As tired as he was, seeing Ciri awake had eased a tension in the back of his mind, a buzzing that hadn’t quite gone away in all his time there. 

This time Dracula didn’t make a pretense of pushing the door open. He merely led Ciri towards them as the heavy double doors swung open of their own accord, showing off the room they led into. 

Geralt expected the hall from before, so he was surprised to see yet another room. 

The first thing he noticed was the floor. White and red marble tiles were arranged in intricate star pattern on the sunken, round floor in the enormous hall. The walls were flanked by lines of delicately carved columns, so tall he couldn’t immediately see the top of them. Over the columns, darkly blooming vines twisted, filling the air with heavy, floral scent. 

In the middle of what he was sure had to have once been a dance hall stood an oval table. It was much smaller than the heavy furniture from the hall he ate in before but no less lavishly set. Silver plates were all but groaning under multitude of dishes and the white tablecloth reached down from the table to almost touch the floor. All around the table, just behind the heavy chairs set around it, were tall candle holders with a dozen candles in each, casting golden glow over the hall.

“Beautiful, castle. Thank you,” Geralt whispered as he looked around the room in awe. This earned him sharp looks from everyone else, but he ignored it. Instead, he focused on the vague, far away feeling that something was listening. And moving, ever so slightly.

Ciri stepped through the door and stopped, looking back at the room she came from, her brows furrowed.

“It’s not a portal,” she said as she looked between the two rooms. It was obvious that she was trying to figure out the insanity of the castle and its random but Dracula-aligned layout.

“I dislike portals.” Dracula’s voice held a not so faint amount of distaste.

“Rearranging reality around you is not any better,” Alucard repeated the already well rehearsed response. Then he looked down, sighed, and stepped into the room.

Geralt looked down too, totally unsurprised to see another mat; this one was even a pretty one, with red flowers resembling the blooming vines. Above it, in a flowering script ran a line of text that read: _Wipe your paws._ But this time below the mat he saw another few words etched into the floor: _pups included._

On both sides of the words there was a stylized image of a snarling wolf’s head, crossed out with a big, red X mark.

A wide grin cracked Geralt’s face. He was starting to enjoy the castle’s sense of humor. Carefully, he wiped his feet, and said, “Ciri.” When she turned, he wiggled his finger at her and pointed at the mat. “You heard the castle.”

Her cheeks turned absolutely flaming red, but all she did was blink slowly at him. Then carefully joined him in wiping her feet. 

Dracula looked at them with a frown; first to Geralt, then Ciri, and then finally to the mat. Geralt wasn’t sure he actually got to read the writing above the mat because everything melted out from under their feet, leaving only sparklingly clean floor behind and a sense of the whole building holding its breath. Dracula frowned for a moment longer, but eventually decided to let it go and turned back to Ciri, offering her his arm again.

They made their way to the table. Dracula courteously pulled out a chair for Ciri, giving her the place to his right, which she sat in with aplomb. The rest of them filed into their seats, Geralt on Ciri’s other side, and Alucard between him and Dracula. 

The moment Geralt sat down, it was like every ache in his body made itself known again. He slouched down hard, sliding into the plush cushions with a pained hiss. The way the table was curved meant he could see everyone and somehow ended directly across from Dracula.

“Please don’t hesitate to eat your fill.” Dracula waved towards the heavenly smelling table. “Your father already proved that exhausted witchers require a lot of fuel.”

A slight blush raised in Geralt’s cheeks and he studiously looked around the room for a moment, avoiding anyone’s gaze. 

Something about the phrasing of that must have caught Ciri’s attention because she shot Geralt a suspicious glare. She let it pass after a moment, though, and smiled politely at Dracula. 

“I’m afraid I’m not a witcher,” she said pleasantly. “Though I was raised with their training. I spend much of my time studying spellcasting, and the nature of portals. If it is any consolation, Geralt hates them as much as you do.”

Dracula leaned back against the high back of his chair, both his hands joining together in front of him, the rings on his fingers catching the flickering candlelight and casting colorful shadows. His eyes were fixed on Geralt, his regard heavy like touch.

“It is.” He nodded. “My son has no qualms about using magic; he’s the accomplished spellcaster. I prefer the…” he hesitated, his tongue wetting his lips as he weighed his words, “the more primal approach,” he decided on finally.

Alucard’s lips twitched in amusement as he went about pouring wine, first passing a glass to Ciri, then one to Geralt. “My skills are extremely specific,” he said. “Most spellcasters are more versatile than I am.”

Ciri and Alucard made small talk about the nature of magic, which Geralt gratefully ignored in favor of sipping his wine. It was a lovely vintage, spiced and sweetened.

He had no idea how long ago his last meal was. Their time in the throne room slipped and stretched in his mind. It could have been an hour, or a day. Either way, the hunger in his gut clawed at him. Geralt happily left the rest of them to their discussions and went about serving himself up some food. Though, this time he at least attempted to be a bit more measured with it. It was a rather nice dinner, after all.

“Geralt…” Ciri paused to glance at the two vampires. “Are you well?”

“Well enough, Ciri. I’ll be fine,” he said, suddenly a bit tired. Now that he was sitting down again, every bone felt like it was made of lead.

“How long has it been since we portaled here? Because when we left you, Shanie had just barely stuck your guts back in your damn chest.” She was worried, he could tell from the way her knuckles had turned white, her fist tight in her napkin. He tried to remember how all of this must look. The castle. The demons. Dracula and Alucard. It was a lot.

“It wasn’t that bad. You know how durable I am.” He waved a hand at her. “Besides, I had Swallow and White Raffard’s Decoction.”

“Those wounds have been healed,” Dracula waved his hand, dismissing any notion of the wound being hard to heal in any way. “It’s been a little over a day since my wards knocked you out.”

Just thinking about how that healing process went made Geralt smile softly. “I’ve been well taken care of here. Dracula and Alucard have been...very kind.”

Now Ciri _really_ looked at him. Then she switched to look at Dracula, who was watching Geralt with that unreadable gaze. She narrowed her eyes, and looked back to Geralt.

“Have we?” Dracula asked quietly, not taking his eyes away from Geralt, all but ignoring everyone else in the room. Even quiet, his voice carried strongly. Or maybe the castle quieted to let him be heard.

“Better than I had any right to expect,” Geralt responded warmly, voice pitched to match Dracula’s tone. “I find myself better tended to here than any place I have been.”

Dracula’s eyes narrowed just slightly, a shadow on his face there and gone.

“Then you must have been treated poorly.” Dracula’s eyes were the banked red Geralt was familiar with already, but he could feel the weight of that attention like a physical touch.

He wondered briefly if Dracula was talking about his time in the throne room, or if he was referring to Geralt’s past experiences. Erring on the side of caution, he lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “My kind are not well liked, though I do tend to make friends in odd places.”

“Friends?” Dracula drawled the word, stretching it out and somehow making it sound frankly sinister. His rested his hands to join loosely in front of him with his elbows on the carved armrests. Dracula looked like a picture of relaxation but it was all a lie, a _trap_ , and Geralt wouldn’t be caught unawares again.

Now was the time to proceed with caution, but the way Dracula spoke rubbed against Geralt, like salt on abraded flesh. After he’d been brushed off in the throne room, _friends_ was all Geralt felt he could really hope for. 

But maybe that wasn’t the case. Maybe Dracula didn’t want even that. Maybe it really was just a mindless fuck, a pleasure of convenience.

A great hollowness settled in his chest and it felt like his back was breaking under the weight of it. He was going to get so completely trashed once they were home.

Whatever Dracula was insinuating, Geralt didn’t have the energy for it. He was tired and hurt and feeling suddenly, shockingly lonely, because soon they would be leaving and soon he would have to figure out how to be alone again. He took the barb at face value and answered it so.

“In the past, yes. Friends. Allies. Lovers, too. Here…” he swallowed down around the pain in his throat. “Here I had hoped for something closer, but I know it’s unreasonable to…to assume that you might want that. I am content with whatever you are comfortable with. I would never want to impose.”

“What.” Dracula’s voice had gone deadly low. Power rose up in the room, fluttering around on the edges of Geralt’s new way of seeing things. “I _marked_ you.” The power banked, easing down again. “You won’t ever be allowed to go back from that.” Those last words were delivered coldly, powerfully, and above all mercilessly.

“No,” Ciri whispered, eyes wide. “No. Geralt. Tell me you didn’t.” She looked back and forth between them, mouth dropped in horror.

“He did,” Alucard muttered loud enough for Ciri to hear him. “He really did.”

“Wait.” Geralt shook his head. “You’re not...you mean you…” He struggled to find the right words, anything that wouldn’t make him sound as pathetic as he felt. Nor could he keep the slight hopeful lilt from his voice. “You want to keep me?”

“You think your little witch child could take you anywhere I wouldn’t be able to find you?” Dracula leaned forward, black hair falling over his shoulders. “As long as there’s a sliver of darkness anywhere in that world, _it is within my grasp_.”

Now Geralt was well and truly confused. He was so mired up inside with all the misery he’d been manufacturing for himself that it was hard to shake free of it and listen to what was being said. “Why would I want to go somewhere where you couldn’t? I thought you were uninterested. I’m willing to…to give whatever you’d take. But you said…”

“You are one of _mine_ now,” Dracula rumbled, leaning back in his chair. “Did I not make that clear when I marked you? Was my interest ambiguous in any way?”

Geralt frowned, and pored over the interactions in his head. There were definitely bits and parts of the last day that were a blur, but he thought that he read all the cues correctly. He took a moment and tried to organize his thoughts.

“You were,” he shuddered with half remembered pleasure. “Very clear in some ways. Wonderfully clear. But, it’s not unusual for lovers to have their fun with me and then wish me to disappear, the sooner the better in many cases. And afterwards…you said the same things that others have. I thought you were trying to let me down gently. I figured that even if you didn’t want more than just a quick fuck, I still---” He clenched his jaw and smiled as best he could. “I’d take whatever time I could with you both. Anything is better than nothing.”

Alucard turned incredulous eyes on Geralt.

“Wait, both?” Ciri said quietly.

“ _Gently_?” Alucard opened his mouth and closed it, then tried again. “You though my Father was even capable of _letting you down gently_?!” He waved an incredulous arm towards Dracula. “He’s like the literal personification of the term _battering ram_!”

“Hey,” Geralt frowned, offended on Dracula’s behalf. “He’s very gentle.”

Darkness rolled through the columns along the walls and the furniture creaked ominously, Dracula’s boundless rage made manifest. Geralt could feel the burning hot outrage unspooling just beneath the human facade. Dracula looked so calm and controlled most of the time it was easy to forget that he was chaos incorporated, a primal force that worked mostly on the instincts of a wounded predator.

It was extremely difficult to keep the tension out of his body, but Geralt did try. If it were him alone, at this point he probably wouldn’t have even cared enough to get worked up. He was confident that Dracula wouldn’t hurt him. Even barring that, he was generally unconcerned with pain or death, so the terrifying power that spooled around them wasn’t worth getting bothered over.

But it was one thing to tempt and weather that anger himself, and another to do so while Ciri was in the crossfire.

“Geralt, ask him how many of _his_ people there were before you came here,” Alucard injected suddenly. He was watching Dracula with a thoughtful expression on his face, seemingly unaffected of the display of rage or maybe just understanding something Geralt didn’t.

Dracula’s eyes swung to Alucard, whatever was in his expression beneath the bitter anger, Geralt couldn’t read.

Geralt looked to Ciri’s pale face. Yes, she finally caught on to the kind of volatile power Dracula could raise up without any kind of effort. Geralt hoped that would be enough to keep her quiet for a little bit. He glanced to the other side of the table.

Alucard was staring down Dracula with a steady regard. There was no fear, no tension in him at all; he was an immovable object to Dracula’s unstoppable force.

Whatever was going on here made Geralt want to shove his head in a frozen lake. He was deathly tired of people speaking in riddles, and his bones felt like brittle glass. Above all, though, Geralt wanted to disarm the situation, and he trusted Alucard to be the voice of reason.

“How many people have you considered yours before I arrived here?” Geralt asked dutifully, not truly understanding the question but willing to play along. The dark power stinging his nerves with every breath only served to ramp up his anxiety.

“Alucard,” Dracula growled, but his son didn't cave. He just met Dracula’s stare head on.

“Just tell him. He doesn’t understand.”

No truer words had ever been spoken. Geralt was mired in pain and confusion. His heart _ached_.

Dracula tore his eyes away from Alucard as if it physically pained him, and pinned Geralt with that burning stare.

“One,” Dracula all but spat the word at Geralt, all resentment and barely contained rage.

A ridiculous hope bloomed inside of him. Only one other had earned Dracula’s regard. “You,” he paused and licked his lips. “You aren’t going to throw me away?” _Like everyone else had_ , the words went unsaid.

“It’s not your heart that he wants, or your love,” Alucard said gently, almost pityingly. Geralt opened his mouth but Alucard interrupted him. “It’s what you _have been_ , _are_ , or ever _will be_.” Alucard’s voice was calm and accepting, unflinching. “It’s your soul he wants, because it’s always goddamn all or nothing with him.”

Having the desire stated plainly seemed to soothe something in Dracula. The dark miasma of fury banked down, hiding once again under the layers of control and no longer seeping out the cracks.

“I am not letting my claim on you go,” Dracula said, his voice somewhat calmer. He leaned back into his chair and let his gaze fall heavily on Geralt, looking him up and down in almost the exact same way as he did at the beginning of the meal.

Geralt looked at him hopefully, trying not to feel too invested, but failing miserably. “Promise?” It felt like he was scraping the shattered bits of his heart together to make a smoldering little pile in his chest.

“I made my choice when I fell,” Dracula said slowly. “I made my choice when Alucard asked me for it, and I have made my choice with you. In all the time I have been alive, I have never gone back on my choices yet.”

Pleasure washed through him, chased hard by relief, and Geralt’s shoulders sagged with it. His mouth curled into a tiny smile. He’d thought this was just another in a long line of meaningless fucks. He’d hoped, desperately wanted it not to be, but had resigned himself to disappointment.

He had the most ridiculous urge to go crawl into Dracula’s lap, to see if those strong hands would soothe away the rest of his hurts, but he refrained. His daughter was there, face buried in her hands.

Eventually, Ciri took a breath and groaned, letting her head fall backwards to stare at the ceiling. “Father, only you would think the devil doesn’t want your soul.”

That actually forced a laugh out of him, and he rubbed his eyes, ignoring the way his hand trembled. He should eat. The castle had provided a ridiculous amount of mouthwateringly beautiful food. But the smell of it all just turned his stomach, and even thinking about eating made him sick. He toyed with his cup instead. “Experience is a harsh and cruel mistress,” he said eventually.

“Tell me.” Dracula’s voice had dropped to a low growl once again, sending a now-familiar shiver up Geralt’s spine.

Geralt raised his eyebrows in surprise. He risked a glance to Alucard, who just stared at him; the quirk of his eyebrows perfectly said, ‘I told you so’.

“Do you really want a list?” Ciri had regained some of her composure and was looking at Dracula with a single eyebrow raised. “Because that is a wickedly long list. Even if you split it between the nice ones and the rotten ones, that’s still a pretty damn long list.” 

The blank look was back on Dracula’s face and again Geralt could feel his rage stir. Alucard looked to be holding back a wince.

Ciri was fearless in the face of it, though she had to feel it, too. She just shook her head and sipped her wine, cool as could be. “You have to understand, my father is the most ruthless, kind man you will ever meet. He has a higher and more dangerous kill count, humans and non-humans alike, than any other single person I’ve heard of. I’m fairly sure there have been years where a day without killing was the exception and not the rule. And yet,” she turned to give him a fond smile. “This is the same man who brings flowers to all the whores in whatever city he’s staying in.”

“There’s no shame in making a living selling services. I sell my sword as much as they sell their time.” Geralt looked sternly at her. “Besides, they don’t often get treated well, so why not? I collect enough types for my alchemy. Might as well gather a few extra blooms for the night shift, too.”

“You keep a list of who likes what flower.” 

“Easy enough to remember.” He shrugged. 

“They don’t even charge you, most of the time.”

He smirked at her. “They’re very grateful.”

By now, Alucard had actually covered his face with one hand, head bent over like he was in pain. 

Dracula, on the other hand, was _seething_. He hadn’t moved a single muscle, but his eyes had turned into deep wells of red and black power. The white stone flooring had actually started to thread black with the sheer amount of excess energy that was building. 

“Honestly, father is right,” Ciri said with a smirk and a shrug, absolutely knowing just how much she was stirring the hornet’s nest. “The working girls and boys are pretty nice. Even I don’t keep count of the random servants and milk maids, healers, fighters, and travelers. I do, however, keep track of the nobles, as well as any non-humans of note.”

Geralt just raised an eyebrow at her. He wasn’t really sure what she was trying to prove by listing off his many, many dalliances, but he was certain that she had a point. She always did. Hopefully she got to it before Dracula decided to murder them all out of spite.

“Now,” she turned to Dracula. “If you want a list of those particular instances that ended...poorly for my father, I’d be happy to supply---”

“Ciri!” Geralt frowned at her.

“---But most of truly bad offenders are already dead. As endlessly charming and kind as my father is, a day with no killing is the exception that proves the rule.” 

His frown turned to a glare. “It’s not even like I go looking for humans to kill. I only get paid for the monsters.”

“Father,” Ciri said with a fond smile, “you attract more trouble than any hundred people I know, and I know some very strange people.”

Geralt sighed. She wasn’t wrong. 

“Why would you mention these things?” Dracula said quietly, his voice barely a whisper in the dark that had encroached upon their table. “What would make you deliberately stir up my ire?”

The smile she leveled upon Dracula was as ruthless as any Geralt had ever seen. “Because I am deeply and profoundly tired of seeing my father dead or dying, and if there is another person I can recruit to help keep him safe, I will.” Her smile softened a bit, and she glanced at Geralt out of the corner of her eye. “And he looked happy when I woke up, when he introduced us. I don’t often see that. So perhaps it’s best you not be surprised by the life he’s led up until now.”

Whatever irritation Geralt felt all but melted away, heart warming in its place. It never failed to amaze him just how kind and fearless his daughter could be, and he always felt honored that she held him in high esteem. No matter the foul twists his life had taken, Ciri was a blessing.

Ciri reached over and squeezed Geralt’s hand, and he could see that she felt the same as him. 

“I only want your happiness, father,” she said softly.

He squeezed her hand back, and smiled. “Fond daughter.” The moment stretched, and he raised his eyebrows at her. “Don’t think I’ve somehow managed to forget you just offered to give the Lord of Darkness a hit list of all my ex-lovers.”

Her grin turned back to razor sharpness. “Only the bad ones. I don’t have time to kill them all myself. We’re busy. There are wars.”

Geralt rolled his eyes and went back to poking at his food. 

“Is this what normal families are like?” Alucard asked quietly. Dracula just stared, obviously slightly mystified. The air was still unsettled with his power, but visible shadows no long creeped towards them and Dracula’s eyes had faded to their normal dark red.

Both Geralt and Ciri spent a few minutes quietly eating the scrumptious food. There were a few dishes that Geralt had enjoyed from earlier that had made an appearance. The quiet helped settle him, and he found his appetite renewed. 

“So…you and these two, huh?” Ciri said in between bites, innocently looking at her plate. 

Geralt side-eyed her hard. Whatever it was she was about to say, he just _knew_ that it was going to be bad. 

“.....Is it a vampire thing?”

“Ciri!” Geralt said flatly, glaring at her once more.

“Should I be looking to invest in gorgets for you?” He rubbed his eyes and sighed. “I’m sure I could find some with an easy access latch.” She wiggled her eyebrows at Alucard, and smirked knowingly. “Silver plate on the outside, soft fur on the inside. It would be just like unwrapping a present. A really dangerous present---”

“Ciri, enough.”

“---You could get it engraved.”

“No.”

“---Maybe just a---”

“ _No._ ”

Geralt looked sternly at her, and she returned that look with every ounce of wide, eyed innocence she possessed. He wasn’t fooled for a moment. 

“I can see the resemblance now,” Dracula murmured. His face was doing something complicated that meant he was probably fighting back a number of different feelings. 

“It’s like they exist to push boundaries,” Alucard answered quietly, nodding and sipping his wine.

Geralt probably should have been embarrassed, but sadly this sort of harassment was a semi-regular occurrence for him. Instead, he just sighed and tried to control the damage. 

“Eat.” Geralt pointed at the plate in front of her. “Try the honeyed pork. You need more sugar. All that magic burns up your energy stores.” 

“Yesssss, moooother.” Ciri rolled her eyes and speared a slice of the pork for her plate. 

“The castle did a fine job on this meal, you might as well appreciate it.” Geralt followed his own advice and refilled his plate. Even getting a little bit of food in him had managed to invigorate him. Much of his earlier lethargy seemed to fall away, though he still felt like he’d spent a week running uphill.

“Wait…” Ciri froze for a moment and narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you…are you trying to seduce the castle?”

The sound Alucard made was like a cross between a snort and a screech. 

“What? No!” Geralt said, then froze as well, mid-thought. He opened his mouth to speak, but then shut it again, and frowned. 

Honestly, he’d mostly just been trying to charm it into a sweeter temper. The whole wandering around for hours on end just to get from one room to another was ridiculous.

But once he thought about it, his seductions often did begin with simple acts of kindness. He pressed his lips together tightly in deep thought. 

“First,” Ciri said, holding up one finger at him. “Let’s ignore the fact that it’s a building and not a person. A demonically possessed building, at that, and one that’s the size of a city. Also, setting aside the fact that it’s _his_ building,” she waved at Dracula, “how would that _even work_?”

That was actually a really good question. 

How _would_ that work? Since the castle was just an extension of Dracula’s power, would it just be Dracula’s power fucking him, but only on a large scale? If the castle really was its own entity, did it express itself through its demonic minions? After all, Alucard talked to the guard and that seemed to get a message to the castle. As much as Geralt liked sex, he was pretty damn dubious about being on the end of a demonic chain fuck. If the demons were separate entities, would the castle just...modify itself? Would a convenient hole in the wall appear? Or perhaps some pleasantly shaped furniture? How would one even please a demonic building, and how would he be able to tell?

A bread roll hit him in the face, breaking him out of his speculation.

“Stop considering it!” Ciri snapped at him. 

By now, Geralt was well and truly amused, especially since he had the upper hand with the teasing.

“It’s rude to throw food,” he said with mock severity, then broke open the roll to smear butter on it.

“Then stop thinking terrible things about a _building_ at the dinner table!” Ciri waved both her hands at the feast in front of them, illustrating her point. “It’s not even _possible_.”

Oh, now he had her! Ruthless as ever, he moved in for the kill.

“Now, now.” The look he gave her was both stern and mildly disappointed. “You know what I’ve always taught you. You can do anything if you try really hard and believe in yourself.”

She actually growled at him, which only caused him to break into hysterical laughing.

“That’s not--- But no--- _Whyyy?_ ” Ciri practically howled, and waved both hands at him, possibly in an attempt to physically restrain herself from strangling him.

Alucard took a considering look at Ciri and then poured her a goblet so full of wine it was all but overflowing.

“Are you trying to get my daughter drunk?” Geralt asked half seriously.

“I consider it first aid.” Alucard looked at her with sympathy.

Ciri looked at the goblet.

“Good man,” she said and reached for it, downing one third of it on the first swallow. “How did you know?” She raised an eyebrow at him.

Alucard raised his own goblet. “I’m a vampire. The only reason I drink it is not to go as mad as him.” He pointed at Dracula with his goblet.

She snorted. “Oh Gods, there are two of them.” 

Alucard was nodding seriously.

“You have no idea how maddeningly alike they are.”

“Why am I not surprised,” she said dryly. “Good. That’ll keep him on his toes.”

Geralt couldn’t even bring himself to be offended. He was just too pleased that they were getting along. “Keep me on my toes? As if there aren’t already enough surprises in my life.” 

“You are the one that got yourself into this situation.” Dracula said deceptively mildly. “You knew Alucard was a vampire, and a high standing one too, yet you still did your best to seduce him in the baths he offered you out of sheer hospitality.”

A fond, happy smile spread across Geralt’s face. That bath was a good time. “Mmmm an excellent decision on my part. Right up until the rat bite, anyways.”

“Rats?” Ciri asked, eyebrows lifting in surprise.

Alucard perked up at that, despite the slight flush on his cheeks. Geralt had a feeling there was a story there.

“Yes. Rats,” Alucard said with a strangely intense venom in his voice. “My Father here has the unique and inexplicable ability to turn into _nine_ rats.”

“Only nine?” Ciri frowned in confusion. “At the same time?”

“Yes!” Alucard pointed at Ciri and nodded as if vindicated after years of searching for proof of the sheer madness of what Dracula did. “Nine rats! Not one, not a hundred. _Nine_.”

Ciri eyed Dracula up and down. “Do you shapeshift into other things? Is there a number limit on it?” She paused. “Are they particularly large rats?”

“I can shape my body into a number of things,” Dracula said quietly. “A dragon, bats of all shapes and forms, no limit on the number, mist, shadows. And a plague of rats.”

At the word ‘dragon’, Ciri perked right up, eyes bright and fingers practically twitching with excitement. “A dragon! I both desperately want to see that, and very much don’t. It seems like a terrible idea, doesn’t it?” She looked to Geralt, concern wrinkling her brow. 

“Gods know the castle is big enough for one dragon,” Geralt murmured thinking of the endless halls with it’s inhuman dimensions.

There was a speculative look to Ciri’s gaze, a way that she glanced back and forth between Geralt and Dracula. Whatever she was thinking, he just knew it was bad news. Luckily, Alucard interrupted before she could comment on whatever had occurred to her.

“Then it begs the question, why one dragon and not nine?” Alucard asked, sounding sullen about the specific number of rats.

Geralt grinned, and sipped his wine. He glanced at Dracula, checking to see how he was taking the teasing. 

It was the first time Geralt saw bafflement mixed with exasperation on Dracula’s face, but everything was so clearly undercut with fondness it transformed his features completely. He looked more human, watching the way Alucard sulked about the number of rats and Ciri asking a barrage of probably too invasive questions. He wondered, briefly, if that was how happiness looked on Dracula.

“I like you,” Ciri said to Alucard as she waved a finger at him. “You seem sane. Geralt needs more sane people in his life. You,” she side-eyed Dracula, “look like an enabler.” There was a twinkle in her eyes, and an upward tug to her lips, as if she were trying very hard to keep a straight face, but only barely succeeding. 

Both Alucard and Geralt snorted in amusement. 

Ciri took another few bites of food, and then paused. Her eyes went wide and she looked at Geralt.

“It just occurred to me,” she said slowly. Oh boy. “That eventually, one day, I may find a partner.”

“If you wanted one, yes, perhaps.” Geralt furrowed his brow, mildly confused about where she was going with this line of thought.

That vicious, maniacal grin was back on her face, and it was a little bit worrisome. “Right. So just think about when I bring the poor bastard home to see his soon-to-be in-laws.” She started to cackle a little, quietly to herself.

He could just picture it, too. Some nice young man, all polished up and trying to make a good impression. Geralt alone would be intimidating, if only because of his look and reputation. Add in Dracula and Alucard and, Gods, that would really be something. He didn’t know if he should be horrified or start laughing right along with Ciri.

“Is Geralt so terrifying?” Alucard asked, slightly smiling.

“Pfft, to many people, yes,” Ciri said with a snicker. Then she sniffed and took a drink of her wine. “But I was thinking about you two as well.” Alucard’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “What? You’re family now.” She shrugged.

“You seem remarkably easy to accept strangers into your family,” Dracula turned his head to assess Ciri thoughtfully. “Seems odd after what you said about Geralt and his never ending string of lovers.”

“True enough,” she said evenly. “But do you know how many of them he’s introduced to me? Or if I met them during a job, how many he’s made a point of telling them that I’m his daughter? I can count the number on one hand and have fingers left over. And those few…didn’t work out. Besides, regardless of whatever my feelings on the matter are, he has made his feelings plain. That’s enough for me.”

Dracula lost some of the ease of his expression, eyes going darker as he looked to Geralt. He didn’t say anything, though, and the silence didn’t sit well with Geralt.

He thought for a moment, mulling over the whole dinner in his mind. Dracula was having...something. A moment. A thought, maybe, and it was bothering him. Geralt had made his intentions clear, and so had Dracula, he thought. But there was something else.

Geralt set down his cup and looked to Ciri and Alucard. “Would you two be willing to entertain yourselves for a while?”

Alucard took a long look at Geralt, then at Dracula, and back to Geralt.

“Really?” he asked, sounding exasperated. “In the middle of dinner?”

“Really,” Ciri said with a sigh, and refilled Alucard’s glass. 

“I’m not going away to have sex!” Geralt defended, feeling indignation burst through his chest. He wasn’t. He just wanted to _talk_. They were being _unfair._

The look both Alucard and Ciri gave him very clearly stated that they knew better.

“Uh huh,” Ciri said flatly.

“Of course,” Alucard added, just as deadpan.

Fire burned across Geralt’s face, and he rubbed his eyes.

“I don’t mind if it’s about sex,” Dracula chimed in with the most polite nod of his head, the ever gracious host Geralt’s _ass_.

Ciri just looked back to Alucard. “There are two of them,” she muttered quietly, shaking her head minutely. 

“I can not show you my dragon in this room,” Dracula turned to Ciri, “that form is much too big for it, but I can still show you one of my forms.”

With those words Dracula’s body unraveled into dark wisps of black mist. They circled around him, spiraling in place, lit from within by dark red embers floating in the midst of all that soft darkness. When the last of his solid body dissolved, tendrils of that black mist reached through the air slowly, trailing streamers behind them, and met just beside Geralt. Once there, they twisted together into Dracula’s form, perfect and whole, with the gold trimmings on his red coat gleaming in the soft candlelight.

Ciri’s eyes lit up and her mouth dropped into a small ‘o’. The expression of wonder only lasted a moment before she was dragging herself back to something more presentable, but Geralt could see in her eyes just how amazed she was.

“Beautiful,” she said softly. “Thank you for showing me.”

Dracula gave a shallow bow in her direction, more acknowledgement than Geralt expected of him towards a human. It warmed him that it was Ciri that he decided to treat with so much respect.

“Ask my son to show you his wolf forms, especially the Spectral Wolf. It’s an amazing piece of spellwork.”

The look Ciri turned on Alucard would have made any hunter proud.

“What is it with you showing off my Wolf more than me.” Alucard shook his head with a rueful smile.

“It’s worth showing off,” Geralt said, remembering the wonder he felt when he saw it for the first time. 

“Come,” Dracula said quietly and turned to another set of doors. These were smaller and all but hidden behind one of the columns. “We shall talk.”

Geralt stood up and leveled his daughter with a _look_. “Don’t break him.” 

Alucard just raised an eyebrow at him, and Ciri snorted. 

Then Geralt turned and followed Dracula out.

The room Dracula led them to, for once, was actually normally sized. Unlike all the grandiose rooms and halls of before, this one was something Geralt could reasonably expect to be in a palace. The three walls he could see were covered with beautiful tapestries and plush, red velvet furniture lined the walls. A wide couch with a mountain of colorful, silky pillows was the biggest piece of furniture and it only had a little gold trimming on the sides. Even the fireplace beside the couch was reasonably sized, with a fire burning merrily inside. 

Geralt was about to open his mouth and comment on the cozy room, before he turned to look at the last wall and all words left him. Floor to ceiling, colored at the top but clear all the way to the ground, were windows. The glass was so clear he could have thought it wasn't even there, if not for the thin brass frames that held the glass. Even still, they were so thin and so well made that they were no barrier at all from the breathtaking view outside. 

An endless starry night shone over pristine, snowy mountaintops that stretched as far as eye could see. The shining sky was so bright that it hurt to look at for long, but was impossible to turn away from. The beauty of the severe landscape took his breath away. All Geralt could do was stare for a long moment at the vast alpine range that stood before him. Snow covered the peaks and gently swept down their sides in wide glaciers, so tall and deep that there wasn’t even a hint of greenery at their base.

Dracula sat down on the couch, the red coat fanning around him and Geralt realized the couch was positioned directly across the windows. Perfect for scenery gazing.

“I love mountains,” Dracula said in a quiet, wistful tone of voice. “I was an orphan, found abandoned and unwanted on the church steps. I had no name to call my own.”

Dracula looked from the mountains to Geralt.

“The priests gave me my name, Gabriel, after a beloved angel of God. But my last name I chose myself, Belmont, after the mountains I loved so much.”

Geralt stood silently for a moment, bowled over by the trust that Dracula had just shown him. To talk about his birth, his human name, his life before all of this...it was something Geralt had doubted would ever happen. His heart went out to Dracula, because he remembered what it was like to be left, to be unwanted.

“They are very beautiful,” he said, though he was looking only at Dracula. “I…” he hesitated for a moment, not knowing if his input was wanted, if it would help at all. “All witchers are orphans. I was given to Kaer Morhen as a babe, and trained to be what I am. I, too, have no last name besides the one I took myself.”

“Geralt of Rivia,” Dracula murmured, thoughtfully. 

“I was knighted there, for services to the crown. But that’s not why I picked it.” A ghost of a smile stretched across Geralt’s face. “We are, were, encouraged to choose a name that would make us sound trustworthy. I had never even been to Rivia when I chose it, but I learned the accent as a boy. Everything we are was honed for a purpose. Witchers are weapons, I think, above all things.”

“I was raised and taught to be a weapon too. A weapon for the Holy Order, a weapon to destroy the Lords Of Shadow.” Dracula extended his hand towards Geralt. “I have became so much more than a weapon, so much more than any of my erstwhile teachers could even comprehend.” His voice had a ring to it that made the hair on Geralt’s neck stand up and his skin prickle. “You will outgrow the idea of what a witcher is, too.”

He thought about just how long his life was likely to be. Already in his lifetime the world had changed so much. What would it be in a hundred years? A thousand? In the end, he knew that Dracula was right. What he was, what he defined himself as, would change over time.

Geralt nodded thoughtfully and looked back to the window. Even the mountains would change, given enough time. 

Then he turned, walked over to Dracula, and put his hand into Dracula’s waiting one. He found it oddly endearing, that Dracula was always warm. His chest, his hands…they always radiated heat, like a living, breathing human. 

“You are so amazingly warm.” He turned his hand in Dracula’s hold, pressing his palm against Dracula’s and relishing the heat there. “Alucard is always cold to the touch. Not deathly cold, but definitely cool. Why is that?”

“Because he is stubborn and hadn’t fed for more than a thousand years after he first awoke. I know he sometimes feeds on the demons he kills in battle, it is the only way to heal wounds in the middle of a fight for us, but he does it as a last possible resort. If he fed properly, he would be more like me. He shares my blood in more ways than one after all.”

“He is amazing.” Geralt was still sort of astonished that either one of them let Geralt into their beds, let alone their hearts. “Does he need to feed at all? I’ve met vampires that didn’t need to drink human blood.”

“He does,” Dracula said with a fierce kind of anger. “He did not come into existence naturally, like some of the demonic species do. He was created by me and I had already been tainted by another vampire. I need to feed and therefore he needs it, too.”

“Do you really?” Geralt asked, thinking of how Dracula drank from him. It might have felt amazing, but it wasn’t a lot of blood that he took. In terms of power, he gave back so much more than he could have possibly taken.

“I have drained…” Dracula hesitated before looking Geralt squarely in the eye. “Whole armies, thousands of human beings and innumerable demons. I have drank enough for a lifetime. So now? It is mostly for pleasure. And to stuff as much of my blood down Alucard’s throat as possible.”

That last bit made Geralt laugh, because he could practically feel the exasperation Dracula had for the whole situation. He didn’t miss how Dracula had admitted to past misdeeds. The sheer scope of them was astonishing, but Geralt didn’t doubt for a second that it was nothing but the stark truth.

He thought for a moment, turning over everything in his mind.

“Would you cast me aside now that you know I’ve had so many lovers?” Geralt asked evenly. “And it has been many. My nights are cold and lonely, and I’ve had no qualms about filling them with nearly any willing, warm body I could find.”

“Lovers,” Dracula murmured, “I did not have many of those.” Dracula tugged at Geralt’s arm and Geralt went with it, sitting down beside the master vampire. 

“You don’t like that I’ve been… _with_ so many others. I can feel your rage at it,” Geralt said softly. “But would you shun me for it? Am I unworthy of your regard because of it?”

“It’s not the sex that I object to. I am the lord of many demons, incubi and succubi among them. I can understand the pleasure of the body as I have sampled that what was on offer.” Dracula was so close, radiating the warmth and power that Geralt found so addictive. “But you did not look at them like that, did you? They were not toys, playthings to discard and forget as soon as you were done with them.” The glow in Dracula’s eyes intensified for a moment. “With each person, you cared. Cared enough to show them that little bit of your heart, of your soul. You gave them access, should they want it, and it _infuriates_ me.” Dracula leaned closer to Geralt, one arm resting on the back of the couch, all but pinning Geralt with his body. “I would kill them for ever having a glimpse of the gift you were offering, but I wouldn’t shun _you_ for it.”

Those words, that admission, made Geralt’s heart leap in his chest. The way Dracula covered him, held him without even a thought, made him feel wanted in a way that almost never happened. All of his other lovers, even, or perhaps especially, the serious ones had other goals. Agendas. He was never more than a convenience. A pleasant one, surely, but always more _useful_ than _beloved_. To have Dracula say that he was willing to accept Geralt for all that he was, and had been, eased a pain that he wasn’t even aware of.

He licked his lips, and reached up to run a thumb along Dracula’s jaw. “I think it’s part of my nature, to be so giving. To care, even when I really shouldn’t. Much as your past is a part of your nature, and for all the things you have done, terrible though they may be, I would not cast you aside for them. It saddens me, to know that so much death happened, but I am not repulsed. I can feel your anger, and so much rage can only come from pain. I hate that you’ve had cause to be so furious. I’d ease it if I could.”

Dracula shifted on the couch, pulling himself up and resting most of his weight on Geralt, now truly pinning him to the lush upholstery. His hand was on Geralt’s face, cupping his jaw.

“I have accepted what I have become,” Dracula said finally. “Darkness grows in hearts of men, but it is not evil by itself. It merely offers, opens them to the possibility of corruption. It’s their own weakness that makes them fall. You have so much darkness inside of you, more than any human I have ever met, but you are still undeniably human. Darkness holds no corruption for you and you have not the faintest idea what it means for me.” Dracula was inching closer, so close Geralt could feel his lips just brushing his. “To Alucard and to you, I can never be a god,” he said harshly, “I can only be myself.”

Dracula’s thigh was between Geralt’s legs, his heavy body pinning him down. He had no idea when he ended up stretched out on his back or when exactly Dracula managed to get on top of him like that but he couldn’t find it in himself to mind. He let his hands rest on Dracula’s arms, feeling the tension in them through the thick layers of the coat now covering them both.

“I’d have it no other way,” Geralt whispered. “You and Alucard both want me like no one else.” The pain in his chest ramped up, cracking open an old festering wound, and flowed into his voice.

“Everything you _were_ , everything you _are_ , or will ever _be_ ,” Dracula whispered harshly. “All of that will be mine. All of you.”

“No matter how I am? Flawed and---” He swallowed. “I need you to want me. To care. I couldn’t stand it if you didn’t care.” Geralt dug his fingers into Dracula’s coat, clinging.

“The mark I attempted to give you is unbreakable,” Dracula said just as harshly as before, his lips sliding against Geralt’s as he spoke but not yet kissing. “Nothing can break it. Not life, nor death, and certainly not will. Once its done, it cannot be undone.”

“Will you love me, for as long as I am yours?” It hurt to ask, to bare his heart so plainly.

“If you take my mark, you can only be mine. You would feel me, the way Alucard feels me. And I would be able to find you always. You would never be truly alone anymore, even if you wanted to be.” Dracula breathed the words over Geralt’s skin, sending shivers through him.

To never be alone. 

Geralt read into those words all the things that Dracula had not said. The way they would be tied, the intimacy of it, and what that would mean for them both. Dracula hadn’t mentioned love, wouldn’t say it, but perhaps love wasn’t possible for Dracula outside of what he felt for Alucard. The emotion was just too all encompassing for him; maybe he only had enough inside him to love one person. 

In the end, Geralt thought of what he’d said earlier. He’d take whatever he could get, because slowly but surely, he was realizing that it was all his heart wanted. Even if all he got in return was fondness and possessive tendencies. 

“Care for me. Make me feel wanted. Mark me.” Geralt pressed upwards, sealing their lips together.

The moment their lips touched, power flowed through them, blinding, dark, and heavy as the earth itself. It burned through every nerve in Geralt’s body, so similar to what had happened in the throne room, but far different than he expected. 

Earlier, the power had ripped through him, forced into his body like barbed wire, scraping him out. Now it flowed like a river, touching him, filling him until he thought he might burst with it.

There was no room around him anymore. No couch to rest on. No air to breathe. There was only Dracula and his power and his lips searing into Geralt’s skin. 

He felt his body arch with it, bowed up by the sheer force of the energy that kept pouring in. It pooled and spread, until it felt like it must be shining right through his skin. Sound howled in his ears, and it felt as if his breath, his heart, had stopped, suspended in the moment of transfer. 

This time he did not fight when the pain came and the pain passed as if it never was. Instead he could feel it. Something inside of him growing, alien but not unwelcome, like a large creature that had settled down and curled up to sleep inside his chest. The awareness of it was astounding, primal, and in some strange way comforting, too.

Underneath all of that there was the endless desire, the passion and possessiveness he knew to be Dracula’s, the rage that carried over into everything like unending current, unstoppable and brutal. He felty scorched from the inside, reeling and so over sensitive even breathing hurt. His whole body was one throbbing heartbeat, and he shivered and shuddered between the smooth silk of the bedcovers and Dracula’s naked body.

He blinked, running the thoughts again through his mind. Then he blinked again and focused on their surroundings, realizing they were back in Dracula’s bedroom; the enormous bed with its four carved bed posts was a familiar sight by now.

He was still dressed, which was a surprise and a half, and lay clinging to Dracula’s shoulders like a child, shivering madly. His fingers slid over Dracula’s naked skin. It was so warm to the touch that it felt almost hot. Geralt shivered again, feeling a strange cold pour out of him.

“What---” His teeth were chattering, he was so cold. It took a few attempts to manage words again. “What’s happening?”

Dracula was holding him, arms wrapped around him as if Geralt was some kind of fragile being. One hot palm spread against the back of Geralt’s head, cradling him.

“Your body is adjusting to the changed flow of your energies,” Dracula murmured. “It should level out quickly. The reaction is so strong because you are more in tune with your body than most.”

“I’m cold,” he said, pressing his knee between Dracula’s legs in search of warmth.

Dracula pulled him closer, tucking Geralt’s head into the crook of his shoulder. Geralt sighed at the feel of all that hot skin and burrowed even closer still, waiting for his bones to stop rattling.

He felt Dracula do something, felt a pull at the dark power around them. Then something soft and heavy was being draped over them both, trapping Dracula’s heat under the covers.

Geralt moved his hands from his hold on Dracula’s shoulders down to Dracula’s chest. He trailed down the strong, flat muscle of it, and then lower, to his ribs, reaching for the places that would warm up his fingers the fastest. His shivers were slowing incrementally as the air beneath the covers warmed up. He let his hands slide lower, to those hips he wished had more time to trace and then to the muscular ass that held so many unexplored secrets.

Dracula laughed, not much more than a burst of hot breath on his ear.

“I don’t think you are in much of a state to do anything right now,” he whispered, but did nothing to stop Geralt's freezing cold fingers from their exploration.

“I can---” Geralt had to stop because his teeth chose that moment to chatter as a huge shiver racked him. “Try,” he finished lamely.

That pulled another laugh out of Dracula. The way he was pressed to Dracula’s chest meant that Geralt could feel the rumble of that laughter travel through him. It was so surprising to hear him laugh, when brooding darkness seemed to be his standard setting.

“You don’t have to.” Dracula ran his hand down Geralt’s back. It felt good even through all the layers of clothes he had on him.

“Why am I dressed?” Geralt asked, mulling it over in his mind. Now that he was slightly warmer he could feel the drag of his scabbards on his back.

“Having sex with you wasn’t the goal here.” 

The body under Geralt’s hands was naked and hot, but also relaxed. Dracula let him touch wherever he wished; he didn't stop the exploration, even though Geralt felt as if his fingers were made of solid ice.

“I don’t feel different,” Geralt said, trying to assess his body, trying to feel what Dracula did. The only thing he could distinguish right away was that something inside him, the alien power curled up and asleep in his chest. He could tell it was there, but he could also tell it wasn’t his, wasn’t interacting with him, not actively anyway.

Dracula shifted his head, pressing his cheek against the side of Geralt's face and Geralt groaned at how good that felt, the heat sinking into him.

“Alucard said it took time for him to feel the effects. He speculated it’s a lot like mutation. The connection changes you. Because you accepted it, the process is slower, more natural.” Dracula was rubbing his cheek against him in slow, dragging motions. Almost like a cat lazily marking his territory. “It shouldn’t be painful.”

“It hurt more before,” Geralt muttered, remembering how he was sure he was dying in that chair, his body torn asunder.

“You rejected me,” Dracula said gruffly, “so the changes were being made by force.”

Geralt shuddered, not from cold but from the memory of how it felt to be torn inside out by Dracula’s power like that.

“I wanted you mine, by whatever means I had at my disposal.” Dracula…did not sound guilty about it. Somewhere in his mind, the idea of trapping Geralt in this bond was a better solution than just asking. Ironic, after how Geralt proved that he would have freely offered anyway.

“You let Alucard stop you,” Geralt murmured, letting his lips brush that hot, smooth skin on offer. He could never get enough of the taste of Dracula’s skin, the underlying smell of him. Fire and blood were something he expected, but the smoky aftertaste of embers was a surprise and a mystery he needed to examine more. “You didn’t have to.”

There was a pause as Dracula considered how to answer. “Without Alucard’s intervention, I would not have stopped. But I am not always able to discern when I _should_ stop. I trust Alucard to remind me when I should keep myself in check. That there are limits I should adhere to, even when I do not myself see them.”

The hot skin on Geralt’s lips and cheeks felt divine. He found himself rubbing his cheeks up down into Dracula’s jaw and throat, then finally hiding his face into the crook of his shoulder. It was the perfect spot, warm on all sides and with Dracula’s hair covering up what little was still exposed. Layered over it all was Dracula’s unique scent, the smoldering scent of green wood barely still burning mixed with the metallic undertones of fresh blood. Something that was starting to smell like _safety_ and _home_. 

As good as it felt, he couldn’t stay still, couldn’t stop himself from gently rubbing closer, nuzzling into the soft skin right under the corner of Dracula’s jaw. Very, very softly, he bit into the tendon there and held on, causing Dracula to hum quietly in satisfaction. The shivers were coming faster now as his body warmed up enough to really react to the cold. A tiny whine slipped through his teeth, a sign of distress he normally never would have given voice to.

“Shhh,” Dracula said, and continued to gently chafe at Geralt’s body. Each pass of his hands brought a little more warmth to his frozen body. “You’re doing well. It’s almost passed.”

Geralt tangled their legs further together, and Dracula obliged by wrapping his warm leg over Geralt’s hip, dragging their bodies tight together. This gave Geralt the perfect opportunity to trail a hand up his thigh and around and under the knee there, not really grabbing, just exploring. There was so much of Dracula that Geralt hadn’t had a chance to touch, to taste, yet. He wanted it all, immediately. Having Dracula there holding him so tenderly and allowing him to touch wherever he wanted to was a heady thing. 

Soon, the shaking that had wracked Geralt’s body tapered off, though Dracula’s skin still felt inferno warm in comparison to his own hands and face. He released the bite he had on Dracula’s neck and gently licked there, enjoying the salty, clean taste on his tongue. 

“I can feel you in my heart,” Geralt said softly, still adjusting to the sensation of coiling, dark power sleeping restively in his chest. 

Dracula rolled them so that Geralt was now sprawled on top of him, feeling that powerful chest raise up with every breath. It was still a trip that Dracula didn’t even seem to notice Geralt’s weight much. Geralt had no idea he would be this amazed and turned on by it. He sighed, regretfully letting go of the idea of any sex happening anytime soon. Every part of him was still sore as hell and a second round with Dracula’s power wasn’t anything to sneeze at. He shifted, letting his cheek rest against Dracula’s chest and his eyes slide half closed as he drifted pleasantly. 

“The armor must be uncomfortable,” Geralt murmured after awhile.

“Haven’t noticed,” Dracula answered seriously, still petting whatever part of Geralt he could reach.

The warmer Geralt became, the more the leaned into Dracula’s hands. One of his favorite parts of having sex was all the touching. He loved it, needed it probably, and sometimes the only way to feel it was by hopping into bed with whoever he could seduce. Having Dracula touch and pet and stroke him all over was heaven.

“Feels good,” he said quietly, a slight slur in his voice from how relaxed he was. He dragged his lips across Dracula’s jaw, just for the sensation alone, and breathed in deep. “People don’t get close to me, outside of sex. Too worried, I think. I like it, though. Being held.”

“You are mine now,” Dracula said. The possessive grumble was back in his voice, but now it sounded more satisfied than irritated. “To touch and to hold.” Dracula put his hands on Geralt’s thighs and squeezed. “To do what I please.” The rumble was strong enough he could feel it in the chest he was resting on.

That just made Geralt hum with pleasure. The idea of Dracula touching him all the time was pretty fantastic. 

There was something else he had to ask, though, a stray thought that had finally wormed its way to the surface. His mind was just hazy enough with exertion and Dracula’s proximity that he couldn’t bring himself to be too worried about the answer either way. However Dracula responded, he would find a way to cope.

“Will you let me live in my world? I don’t think I could stay away from here, from you both, for very long, but…” Geralt clung a little tighter, suddenly and irrationally afraid. “I love...living. Fighting and helping.” He looked up to catch Dracula’s eyes. “I would stay, if you asked me to, though.”

Dracula pushed Geralt’s hair away from his face, framing it with his own.

“It’s you that caught my attention,” he said quietly, as close to gentle as Dracula ever got. “I wouldn’t want you to change who you are to please me.”

Quiet, boundless joy filled Geralt up, lifting his chest and lighting up his eyes. He leaned in to kiss Dracula, softly and sweetly, more an expression of devotion than an act of lust. Dracula cradled his jaw, and leaned up into the kiss, prolonging it, and making it all the sweeter.

“Not like I won’t be back every other night anyways,” Geralt said finally, and a little breathless laugh flavored the words. “You’d be hard pressed to keep me away.”

“Good,” Dracula growled into the next kiss. “You wont like it if you force me into going to look for you,” Dracula promised.

The impish, playful part of Geralt rose up then, and he had to grin. It was hard not to think of all the possibilities, all the ways Dracula could see him and interact in his world. “You’d be welcome, if you wanted to look for me.” His voice softened. “I’ll miss you when I’m not here.”

“I don’t find most humans palatable.” Dracula shifted his fingers so that his thumb rested on the corner of Geralt’s lip.

Geralt snorted at what must surely have been an unbelievable understatement. He shook his head back and forth, just a little, just enough to rub his lips across Dracula’s thumb. It felt nice enough that he let his eyes fall nearly closed, just to focus more on the wet drag against his lips. “Ignore them. Visit me. If you want.”

“We will see,” Dracula said after a moment, pulling Geralt closer and licking at his lips. “I enjoy your company too much to let you roam too far away.”

Warmth curled up inside of him and Geralt leaned in to brush his lips against Dracula’s, a small smile on his face. “Is it ridiculous of me to be glad of that? To be happy that you’ll be able to find me wherever I go? I’ve been lost before…” A little shiver raced up his spine. 

“You can never be lost again,” Dracula said fiercely. “There’s a piece of me in you now and I hold a piece of your soul in the palm of my hand. There’s no barrier that could hide both of those things from me.” The darkness at the corners of the room thickened, became more opaque, and Geralt shivered with the sense of the vast, immense quantity of it somewhere just beyond his senses.

Relief poured through him, and he buried his face into Dracula’s neck, breathing him in, taking comfort in the scent of power and ash and rage. “Good,” he said roughly. 

Geralt was opening his mouth to say more but then the most offended, disgruntled chirping he ever heard in his life interrupted them. He turned to look towards the source of the noise and saw the tiny sparrow of light, Alucard’s locating spell, flying towards them and making unholy noise.

The spell-bird reached the bed and started circling above them, yelling even louder if possible. The sense of irritation coming off the bird was amazing.

“...I think we missed the rest of dinner,” Geralt said dryly. He couldn’t tell if he was amused or irritated at the interruption. Though he had to admit to himself that he would have been happy to spend the rest of the day in bed. 

The bird screeched again and dove down, making an attack run at his head. Geralt flailed to protect himself on instinct even though he knew the bird had no physical form at all.

“I think we missed more than that,” Dracula admitted, eyes lazily tracking the bird above them.

The bird screeched and circled around once more, looking at them balefully. 

“I’d love to blame Alucard, but I sense Ciri’s delicate touch here.” Geralt sighed. “Growing up with witchers hasn’t done her any favors.”

“I don’t know,” Dracula murmured. “I am finding Witcher’s perfectly palatable.”

A grin broke out over Geralt’s face. “Is that so?” he ask quietly, and leaned in to taste those warm lips again.

Before he could complete the movement, the locator spell dived again, this time whiffing through his hair and sending his senses tingling in the weirdest way. “Gah!”

It just shrieked and circled once more. Geralt groaned and extremely reluctantly began to untangle himself from Dracula’s embrace. Just lifting his body up was an effort and he hated it. All that warm skin, no longer touching him. It was a travesty. 

But he knew Ciri, and he knew things would only escalate. 

As he sat up, he trailed a hand over Dracula’s jaw in an attempt to savor as much of their closeness for as long as he could. 

“Shall we?” he asked.

Dracula stretched out under him, powerful muscles shifting and put his arms under his head, the picture of insolent relaxation. 

Fuck, Geralt wanted to _eat_ him.

“I don’t actually need to do anything to get ready,” the vampire said with a challenging smirk.

Because of course he didn’t. 

Geralt’s sigh quickly turned into a wicked smirk. “You mean you’ll stay here on the bed, looking gorgeous and edible, while I straighten myself up?” He let his gaze trail down Dracula’s body, hot and heavy. “Win-win, I guess.”

“In hindsight...” Dracula lifted himself on his elbow as Geralt slid off the bed, pulling some of the black silk and white furs off. “I should have had you stripped.” Dracula rolled to his side, resting his head on his fist and watched Geralt stand up. “It would have been more fun right about now.”

Geralt laughed, and went about making sure his gear was in place and retying his hair. As much as he liked it down while he was here, it was more useful to be tied back while traveling. 

“Next time, maybe. With Alucard, too.” He sort of loved that there would be a next time. A small, satisfied smirk crossed his face as he considered what they might get up to.

It didn’t take more than a couple of minutes for everything to be in order, and soon he turned to Dracula and raised an eyebrow. 

Dracula unravelled, his body becoming nothing but mist and embers as it blew towards Geralt, brushing past him, and raising a storm of goosebumps in their wake. Then he reformed right in front of Geralt. His red armored coat was already in place and the rest of his usual ensemble looked pristine and untouched. 

Those red eyes caught Geralt’s and held his gaze as Dracula extended his right hand. Out of nothingness Geralt’s sword manifested into his grip. The runes glowed brightly in the darkness of the room, casting a cold glow over everything around them. Then, slowly, Dracula circled the sword in that same lazy flourish Geralt saw before, changing his grip on the hilt without ever taking his eyes away from Geralt.

“Hold still.” Dracula’s voice was low and rough and Geralt could feel his heart speed up. With his free hand, Dracula grabbed the empty scabbard sticking up past Geralt’s shoulder. Geralt licked his lips, his mouth suddenly dry as he watched Dracula raise the sword and put the tip in the scabbard. Slowly, so very slowly, he slid it into place. The sound of silver sliding through the scabbard filled the room. Warmth radiated off of the hand holding the scabbard, almost touching Geralt’s shoulder, and it drew his full focus. The sound and the heat, and the burning red of Dracula’s gaze were the only thing he was aware of. The sword finally settled with a click and Dracula let go, just as slowly.

“Now you are all ready.” There was a satisfied rumbled to Dracula’s voice, deep and thrilling.

Gods, Geralt wished he had time to drop to his knees and blow Dracula right then. Between the power, the possessiveness, and strangely the release of that control, too, Geralt felt the heat spin up inside of him and his mouth water. Dracula gave him back his blade, personally, so that Geralt could leave because they both knew he would be back.

He almost reached out, but then closed his fist at the last minute, exerting the last little bit of self control he had. Geralt knew he couldn’t keep the hunger out of his gaze, not in how he looked into Dracula’s eyes, nor in how his mouth was barely parted, eager for a taste. 

“Later,” he promised. “I’ll give you a proper thank you for keeping my sword safe.”

Dracula nodded, stepping back, his eyes dark.

“I shall put it on your tab ‘til then.”

Geralt would never be so happy to pay up, he thought. He looked up to the locator spell, still glaring, but at least circling quietly now. 

“Where to now?” Geralt asked, mostly out of habit.

Dracula laughed at him.

“Just open the door,” the vampire advised, the corners of his eyes still curled up.

“Yeah…” Geralt shrugged the sword harness into place. “That’s always an adventure.”

When the bedroom door swung open, long before Geralt’s hand touched the wood, he absolutely wasn’t surprised to see another place awaiting him instead of the corridor that led to the bedroom.

It was a hall, vast and strangely gray. There were nine stone columns stretching up to an unseen roof. Despite that, there were definitely less decorations here than in any of the other rooms so far. The walls were windowless, made from huge blocks of stone, parts of which were crumbling from age in places. It had two tiers; the second floor was lined with stone carved banister. The whole space was circular and every few meters there were dark corridors going away from the main room. None of the corridors had any light lifting the shadows, not candles, not the glowing crystals of before. Just an absolute and impenetrable darkness. When he looked up he saw that the second tier was also filled with dark entryway after dark entryway. 

Besides a few wooden chests and the two red tapestries hanging from the ceiling, the most interesting part of the overwhelmingly grey room was the carving on the floor.

Gerlat pulled out the medallion he got from Dracula and examined its stylized wolf head. The carving was beautiful and delicate, and the intricate lines of the wolf’s mane framed the edges of the silver disk. The image on the floor of this room was exactly the same, just many times bigger. It was so much larger that it looked as if Geralt could squeeze in at least three horses onto it with space left over. 

Waiting off to one side of the room was Alucard and Ciri. As soon as they walked in, Alucard’s face curved into a smile.

Ciri, on the other hand, went white and tight lipped, her eyes wide and a little frightened. She swallowed hard and then nodded, plastering a smile on her face that only looked slightly strained. 

“Took you two long enough,” she said lightly, mostly managing to pull off a pleasant tone of voice. “‘Quickie’ usually only means one round, Geralt, seriously.”

“We didn’t have sex,” Geralt denied with a wave of his hand. Surely they could see he didn’t look as if a wild animal mauled him.

The flat look that both Alucard and Ciri gave him showed him just how much they believed that statement. 

“I see you have your sword back. That’s good. I’m sure it was the only sword he gave you in the last, how many hours?” Ciri turned to look at Alucard, eyebrow raised.

“Many. Many hours,” Alucard said calmly back. “But truly we’re lucky it’s been less than a full day and night.”

“It was long enough we had to amuse ourselves with visiting your gardens,” Ciri said.

“Which gardens?” Dracula frowned, and Geralt wondered if it was because they had so many gardens in this place?

“The new ones,” Alucard murmured dryly.

“Geralt, you’ll love them. I’ve never seen such a variety of herbs.” Ciri smiled warmly at him. “No more wandering around Gods only know where to get the truly rare blooms. Hell, I may ask to come picking with you.”

Geralt actually perked up a bit. The prospect of not running through every Gods forsaken swamp in the world just to find a few key ingredients was an appealing one. 

“Herbs?” Dracula asked. Geralt thought it was directed to him, but as he opened his mouth to answer Alucard cut in again.

“Apparently,” Alucard said just as dryly as before. “Among other things.”

“Other things, too?” Geralt asked with keen interest. “Were there minerals? Sometimes mineral deposits form around springs. They’re useful for bombs.”

“If they weren’t there already, I am sure they are there _now_ ,” Dracula was looking at Geralt oddly, “Any other requests?”

Geralt looked at Dracula in surprise, and then grinned widely. 

“You will be able to make so many bombs,” Ciri said with an answering smile, probably not catching on yet to the strange undertone of the conversation.

“Thank you, castle,” Geralt said, looking around to the ceiling and walls. “My potions keep me alive and my enemies dead. I am profoundly grateful.”

A ripple of something flowed around the edges of his awareness, like the far off rustling of trees in the wind. 

“The gardens are yours to use as you see fit,” Dracula said, his words carrying power within them. It felt like a lock clicking closed, something heavy being lowered with a clang. Some primal part of Geralt understood that in this place Dracula’s word was law and the vampire just created a new one, just for him. “I prefer you alive.” Then he turned to Ciri. “Should he die, his body is to be delivered here no matter the condition. I will turn him then, but only as a last resort.”

She swallowed hard, but nodded. “Good. That’s better than I could do, the last time. I’ll make sure his friends know, too.”

“The medallion will call forth a White Wolf. All you need to do is follow the Wolf into darkness,” Dracula said, “But beware. Only Geralt’s presence will keep the guards from killing you.”

“Noted,” Ciri said. “And thank you. You have both truly been gracious hosts.”

Geralt turned to Dracula and swept him into a passionate kiss, one hand curling into his hair and the other gripped hard at the hip. When Dracula’s hands curled around his body in return, holding them tight together with clawed fingers digging ever so slightly into his armor, he very nearly grinned. He took his time, relishing the taste of power and blood there, knowing that it might be awhile before he could enjoy this pleasure again. 

“We had an ulterior motive,” Alucard said, watching the kiss. The moment Geralt pulled away he stepped closer, turning Geralt towards him. “Don’t die,” he whispered and went for a kiss of his own. Geralt couldn't help but tangle his hands in that soft, curly hair and hold on as their lips slid against each other, tongues tasting lazily. Alucard was light and shadow in perfect balance, a cool counterpart to his ever burning father. Geralt couldn’t get enough of his taste, his sweetness.

“I swear to the Gods, Geralt, I don’t know whether to smack you in the head or applaud,” Ciri grumbled, arms crossed. Then she snorted and shook her head. “The three of you look good together.”

Dracula turned his attention on Ciri and smirked.

“I _know_ ,” he rumbled low and dangerous, making her laugh.

“You can take him from this room,” Dracula said, stepping away from Geralt and Alucard. “The barriers between words are weakest here, it should make your travel easy. Once you land anywhere _but_ this castle, the Wolf medallion will be able to bring you back whenever you want.”

Geralt stepped over to where Ciri stood. As soon as he was in range, she hugged him hard, and he could feel the slight tremble in her arms. 

“We’re alright,” he said softly. He knew just how strange and difficult this visit probably was for her.

“I know,” she said quietly in return, though her smile still held a touch of worry. “Come on. It’s time to go horrify Triss.”

Geralt slipped one hand into hers and looked over to Dracula and Alucard, taking in one last view of the other parts of his heart.

He smiled to himself.

He’d be back.

 

The End.

**Author's Note:**

> Find us on tumblr!
> 
>  
> 
> [Xantissa](https://xantissa.tumblr.com/)
> 
>  
> 
> [Quarra](https://quarra.tumblr.com/)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Коллаж к No Wolves Allowed series](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17940791) by [Na777m777eN](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Na777m777eN/pseuds/Na777m777eN)




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